


A Semblance of Normality

by bsandtheirfandoms



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Tom Riddle, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Childhood Trauma, Good Severus Snape, M/M, Mild Dumbledore Bashing, OOC actions from literally everyone, Obscurial Harry Potter, Obscurus (Harry Potter), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parseltongue, Protective Severus Snape, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Unbeta'd, Uncle Sev!, the author has terrible pacing, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2020-03-20 18:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18998314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bsandtheirfandoms/pseuds/bsandtheirfandoms
Summary: Harry Potter has never had a normal life, despite that being all he's ever wanted. Even now, with a new name and face, he's got the attention of not only all of Hogwarts and an extremely annoying headmaster, but that of the rising Dark Lord himself. But hey, no one ever said being normal was easy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I suck at summaries but if you're reading this then that means you clicked on it anyway so thanks!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** the Harry Potter franchise is owned by J. K. Rowling (as much as we all hate it) and the Warner Bros. I own none of the franchised content. However! I do own the plot and any original characters. That being said, I'm perfectly fine with people writing inspired writings as long as they give credit where credit is due. Basically please don't be a dick and try to steal credit. I've worked really hard on building this story for the past five months and I'll likely keep building until I die because this is my baby. 
> 
> Now that that's out of that way, please enjoy!! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some stories just have really shitty beginnings.  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING: there is heavy physical abuse towards the end of the chapter as well as less violent, but still abuse towards the middle.**   
> 

The first time it happened, Harry didn’t think anything of it. No, it wasn’t common to have strangely coloured hair in public education, but Harry had seen tons of teens with hair all colours of the rainbow. So when his teacher randomly ended up with blue hair in the middle of her laughing at him, he just thought that she’d changed her wig when he wasn’t looking to seem more “hip”. Needless to say, his teacher had called his aunt and uncle, screeching at the top of her lungs that Harry had somehow turned her hair blue despite him telling her over and over again that it hadn’t been him. He’d gone to bed for the next three days without food.

The second time it happened, Harry was beginning to suspect that someone was playing a prank on him to get him in trouble: Dudley he figured. When he’d told his Aunt Petunia his thoughts on how Dudley’s old sweater had shrunk as she was trying to force it over his head, she shrieked so loud his ears rang and he was left in the cupboard for the rest of that day and the next with no meals.

When it happened the third time, he was convinced; he was a freak, just like his uncle grumbled at him anytime Harry was within earshot. He wasn’t _normal_. So Harry swore to himself that he wasn’t going to be a freak anymore. He was going to be perfectly normal and ordinary just like his aunt and uncle and - ugh, he hated to say it - his cousin, Dudley so that they wouldn’t have to be ashamed of him, so they wouldn’t hate him and send him away to that house of freaks Uncle Vernon constantly talked about: The Orphanage.

And it worked for a few years. Nothing else strange happened: not when Harry was upset about his ugly haircuts, not when Dudley and his friends played Harry Hunting, not when he was forced to do grueling chores, and not when he was left with Mrs. Figg and her four cats while his aunt and uncle took their son out for fun. And it was okay, because he wasn’t a freak anymore. And he hoped - no, _prayed_ \- that he would one day be taken to the barber, that he would be left in peace, that he would get an allowance, that he’d be taken out for his birthday as well; that he’d be accepted. And he repeated over and over in his mind that single sentence every night: _I’m normal. Just a normal, ordinary boy. Please, don’t send me away. I’m normal._

As if a higher being had heard Harry’s prayers and taken pity on him, Harry was left in peace (from Harry Hunting anyway, his aunt was concerned he wouldn’t have enough time to finish all his chores), he wasn’t sent to bed without dinner or locked away, and he was even given his own room (even if it was the room where Dudley left all of his broken or unwanted toys and because he was getting a little too big to fit comfortably in the cupboard) because he always followed their rules. He was normal, and even if he didn’t get tucked in by Petunia or clapped on the shoulder by Vernon when he came home with good marks, he still had family.

But of course, it couldn’t last. Dudley began to find ways to “hunt” Harry other than chasing him around the street. When he’d knocked over a vase with the badminton racket he’d gotten for his fourth birthday he’d said Harry had done it. That got Harry two nights without dinner. When he’d coloured on the walls with crayons, Harry got a week in the broom cupboard with no dinner. The process continued again and again whenever Dudley was in a particularly nasty mood, destroying something in the house and then blaming it on Harry. And if Harry ever denied it, he was punished for longer amounts of time.

The first time his uncle beat him, Harry couldn’t sit for the entire day. Dudley hadn’t even done anything that day, Harry had just been too slow in folding the laundry and Vernon couldn’t find his “lucky” tie. But he didn’t complain, hardly even cried when his uncle had ripped off his belt and whipped him. His uncle was normal, so this must have been normal, and Harry was determined to be nothing but normal. Eventually Dudley didn’t even need to mess around to get Harry in trouble anymore. Vernon would lose his temper at least once a day and beat Harry until he was black and blue. As the weeks went by, Harry gathered more bruises and aches and pains. It was okay though, because this was normal. Harry was normal, and if it took a daily beating from his uncle to not be sent away, then Harry would put up with it.

_He was normal._

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Harry was in the dining room, setting the table as fast as his bandaged, shaking hands would allow him. Every once in a while a brisk wind would make its way into stuffy house known as № 4 Privet Drive, allowing a brief reprieve from the sweltering summer heat before the oppressive air would settle again. Harry’s aunt was in the kitchen, pretending to finish up dinner even though Harry had finished and spooned it out into separate dishes five minutes ago. Dudley could be heard in the family room, grunting and snorting over some “hit” TV show.

Harry didn’t know why, but he felt on edge tonight, like something inside him was welling up, ready to explode at a moments notice. It had been a few days since Vernon had taken his belt to him. Maybe that was why he was so jumpy. Not that he minded, though. The beatings had mellowed out over the years and no longer came every day. Harry still had his basic motor skills and wasn’t sent to bed without food so he had nothing to complain about. After all, it was normal.

Harry gave a hum as he set down the last plate, extra careful since the last time he’d broken one of Petunia’s plates he’d been whipped within an inch of his life. Giving everything one last appraising glance, Harry made his way back into the kitchen.

“I’m finished, Aunt,” He called, his voice meek and scratchy, like it was barely used, his eyes downcast as he waited for her to acknowledge him.

“Fine,” Petunia snapped, her beady eyes never even glancing over at his battered form in the doorway. “Go finish your chores. You can eat when they’re done.”

Harry quickly skittered away at the dismissal, barely even managing a “Yes, Aunt” on his way out. He had quite a few more chores left to do. He gathered some of the stray clothes Dudley had left around the house in the attempt of trying to get Harry in trouble, making a mental note of all the chores he’d have to do tomorrow, factoring in how many hours he could spend awake the rest of the night to catch up on some of the books he’d rented out from the public library, when the sound of Vernon’s car pulling into the drive broke him from his thoughts and urged him up the stairs faster. The quicker he was out of sight, the less severe Vernon’s inevitable beating would be.

He heard when the door opened and Dudley’s shrill exclamation and heavy footfalls as he ran and belly flopped onto his dad in some form of greeting. Vernon’s gruff voice traveled up the stairs to where Harry was gathering all the dirty clothes, getting more and more muffled as he made his way into the dining room. Creeping down as quietly as possible, Harry snuck into the laundry room, quickly stuffing clothes into their proper sorting bin as he listened to his aunt and uncle exchange overly happy greetings with each other before the sound of chairs scraping on the wood floors signaled their starting of dinner. Harry’s stomach gave a pitiful growl as he thought of all the food he’d made being devoured by his uncle and cousin.

He shook his head, getting back to his chores while he berated himself: this was normal. Harry made the food, his relatives ate it, and then when they were done eating and he was done with his chores, he ate what was left. Which wasn’t very much, but it was usually enough to get by. Perhaps Harry was a little small for his age and maybe his pig of a cousin and walrus of an uncle didn’t need the extra fattening, but Harry couldn’t complain because it was normal. It was normal. It was normal. _It was normal!_

So why did Harry feel like there was this ugly monster trying to crawl out of a giant hole in his chest whenever he saw his cousin get kissed all over his face by his aunt or his hair ruffled by his uncle when he brought home notes from teachers about being such a wonderful student. Harry was just as good, just as well behaved and smart if not more. Harry shook his head, trying to clear his mind of such thoughts. It was okay. He didn’t need anything from them except for them to keep treating him normal. He was sure of it.

Harry took two more trips up and down the stairs to gather all the clothes, his small form struggling to carry the plastic hamper that was nearly as big as him. He had just finished sorting the last of the clothes when a shadow fell over him from outside of the laundry room. The dark haired boy felt his pulse spike before he glanced up through his lashes, knowing already who it was and what they wanted.

“Upstairs to your room, boy!” His uncle barked, meaty face already a bright puce.

“Yes, Uncle,” he whispered, dropping the laundry he had started to throw into the wash before darting up the stairs. Harry left the door to his room open, taking off his shirt while his uncle lumbered up after him. His heart was pounding in his ears but he tried to push it down, breathing deeply and telling himself that it would be over soon, like getting a shot: painful and then gone. It would end up being worse if he tried to fight it.

When his uncle finally reached his room, he tugged his belt from the loops on his trousers while ordering Harry to put his hands on the wall. The small boy complied, expression betraying none of his apprehension while he placed his injured hands flat on the wall and spread his legs to give himself better stability. His uncle never stopped if he fell, continuing to strike Harry wherever he could and Harry preferred to keep the lashes to his back if he could.

The first strike was always the worse. His uncle was usually huffing for breath by the end of his beating so the first was always the hardest. Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from yelping in pain in order not to make his uncle even angrier. The last time he’d started crying over a beating, his uncle had given him double the lashings, stating that he shouldn’t be sniveling over something he deserved. So Harry bit back his cries and focused on the coppery taste of blood instead of the steadily increasing burn his body so desperately wished to flinch away from.

Harry had counted about twenty hits before his uncle’s gruff voice finally released him from his punishment, breathing uneven and heavy. “Go finish your chores, boy, and for God’s sake keep from bleeding everywhere!”

“Yes, Uncle,” he croaked, pulling his shirt back on despite his tender flesh screaming in protest. He stumbled out of the room, making a note to bandage up his back as much as he could and to wash the blood stains from his shirt before they set into the material forever and he got into even more trouble for ruining one of “Diddykins’s wonderful shirts” that his cousin had been so gracious to let him have.

When Harry finally got back to his room it was late and his back was in agony. He would have been done ages ago if only his back didn’t burn so much; every time the lashes began to finally start to scab over, Harry would twist or bend in a way that would reopen them and set them to bleeding a fresh stream of blood all over again. He barely remembered that he was bleeding and needed to bandage up his wounds when he collapsed into his bed. With a groan, Harry pushed himself back up before he shuffled over to the vanity Dudley had gotten for his fifth birthday before he half destroyed it for being too girly. Bandaging himself as well as he could, Harry shuffled back to his lumpy mattress, hardly managing to pull the covers over his body before he was out like a light.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

The pitch black that met Harry when he opened his eyes told him that, even though he didn’t have an alarm clock - or any clock, really, it was very early in the morning. Harry didn’t understand why he was awake since he had gone to sleep so late the night before and he had also taken one of his uncle’s beatings, though it had been a rather less severe beating than he had been anticipating. Still he shouldn’t have had enough energy to even be awake at the moment.

“Haaaaarry.”

Harry froze. When he heard nothing her began to slowly sit up, squinting in the dark din of his room while trying to keep his breathing even. Was there someone in his room?

Was it his uncle, not satisfied with the beating he’d given him? That wouldn’t be a first. But his uncle called him “boy” or “brat” or anything that wasn’t his name. Same with his aunt. Harry hadn’t even known he had a name until he’d been five years old and wen sent off to school where he’d gotten a little name tag with his name on it. The only one in the house who called him by his name was Dudley.

“Dudley, it’s not funny. I have to do a lot of chores tomorrow, I’ll let you see Uncle’s beating later. Please, let me sleep.”

When nothing was said, and nothing moved, Harry told himself that he was imagining things from the lack of sleep. He moved to lay back down when a shiver wracked up his spine.

“Haaaaaaaarry.”

Harry jumped, snapping his head around so fast his neck cracked. The whisper had come from right next to him, but Harry didn’t see anyone there. There was no way Dudley could have been that quiet. The boy was huge not to mention loud and obnoxious. He wouldn’t have been able to just slip into the shadows and disappear like that. So who was in his room?

The feeling of a thin hand wrapping around his arm had his breath stopping and his whole body locking up as a soft sigh was exhaled onto his neck. Another hand snaked around his waist and he was pulled back into someone’s chest rather tightly, not even giving Harry the option to struggle ashe was pressed into the warm torso. The person behind him let out a purr.

“Haaaaarry.”

Harry opened and closed his mouth multiple times before he managed to finally choke out words. “W-who are you?”

“Fffffffriend.”

“I don’t have any friends.” Harry snapped, tensing at the growl the other person gave. Oh god he was going to get slapped for that. Why was he so emotional, he was never so responsive to his aunt or uncle. But the slap never came, the hand on his arm just moved in slow circles, like the person was trying to calm him.

“Yessssssss… I knooooow.” The person finally spoke, sounding displeased but not stopping their ministrations.

“Then who are you?” Harry asked again, his voice quieter, meeker so as not to upset whoever was behind him again.

“Ffffffriend…” they repeated, continuing before Harry could open his mouth to protest. “Hhhhhidden...”

“From me?” Harry asked.

The person paused their movements, a brief silence passing over them before finally they hissed an answer. “Yesssss… and noooo...”

“I don’t understand...”

“Hhhhidden for you. Keep you… ssssafffe.”

Harry gave a humorless laugh. This person was keeping him safe? Since when? Harry had always been at the mercy of his relatives, he’s never been safe.

Harry blinked. Where had that thought come from? Of course he was safe, the way his relatives treated him was normal.

It was normal. It was normal. It was normal. _It was normal!_

“Shhhhhhh,” The person soothed, as if sensing his distressed thoughts. The hand that had been rubbing his arm had moved up into his hair, the spider like fingers massaging his scalp and carding through the unruly strands. “Haaaaarry. Everything… alright. Sssssssaffffe.”

Harry’s body was trembling like a leaf, holding back what Harry could only assume were sobs that so desperately wanted to come out. The person behind him sighed, hugging him to them tighter. A weight on his shoulder had him turning slightly, revealing dark strands of wavy hair but nothing else.

“Haaaaarry,” they cooed. “Haaaaaaarry… ssssso precioussss… sssssso ssssspecial.”

Harry shook his head, a tiny whine bubbling up from his throat as tears started to form. He wasn’t special, he was normal. He was everything he was supposed to be, normal and quiet and obedient. He was normal, and being special was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

The other person clicked their tongue, turning their face to nuzzle the small boys neck. “Yessssss, Haaaaaarry… sssssspecial… talented… unique. My Haaaaaarry.”

A sob break through his lips, and his tiny arms came up to clutch his onto the ones holding him tight.

“Shhhhhhhhh…” the hand in his hair tugged lightly before petting his messy locks back down in a smoothing motion. Harry felt cold lips press into his temple and started to cry harder. He’d never been kissed before, never been hugged before or told he was special. Another kiss was pressed onto his temple as if to make up for the fact, then his cheek, and then finally his forehead before he twisted in the person’s arms to latch himself onto them. They allowed him to, cocooning him in their arms as he sobbed, while still running their fingers through his hair.

“Haaaaarry… can’t hhhhold core… any longer…”

“What?” Harry sniffled, rubbing at his eyes. He tried to lean back to see the other person but they locked their arms around him, preventing him from moving.

“Don’t be… sssssscared. Power issss… natural…”

“What power?” Harry asked, still trying to see the other’s face.

“Shhhhhhh…” another kiss found its way into his hair before dragging down to his forehead, hovering over his scar. “Haaaarry… everything… will be… okay. I will… protect you. Trussssst me…”

The cold lips descended, pressed into his scar before an inferno burst in his forehead, sending molten liquid through his body as he writhed and screamed in the person’s lap. Their voice a whisper in his ear but crystal clear through his screams.

“Wake up, Haaaaarry… wake up…”

Harry gasped, bolting up before groaning and flopping back down onto his bed, regretting everything when his back throbbed painfully. He didn’t have a clock in his room to check the time, but judging from the light coming through his window it was nearly seven in the morning. If he didn’t get up soon, then breakfast wouldn’t be finished before his aunt and uncle woke up and then he wouldn’t get anything to eat before he went out to weed his aunt’s garden and he’d waste away under the burning summer sun.

Sighing, Harry forced himself up, ignoring the way his back burned from the movement while he made his way down to the kitchen. A nagging feeling kept pulling at him and he rubbed at his scar while he fried the bacon, feeling like he’d forgotten something.

His aunt came into the kitchen as soon as he’d finished setting out the plates, glaring down her nose at him.

“Where are Dudley’s pancakes?” She asked imperiously.

Harry merely stared at her blankly. “Pancakes, Aunt?”

Petunia’s thin lips practically disappeared as she frowned. “Yes, pancakes,” she hissed, obviously displeased. “It’s Dudley’s birthday today. Were you not listening to me last night?”

Oh… oh no… Harry hadn’t been listening. He’d been focusing on biting back cries of distress because his back was burning and if Vernon heard one little peep out of him, it would have been at least another ten lashings.

“O-of course not, Aunt. I’m working on them right now.” Harry squeaked, eyes wide and body hunched, afraid his lie would be found out and he’d be punished.

Some emotion Harry didn’t know flashed across his aunt’s face but was gone just as quickly as it came. “Well, hurry up then. Dudley and Vernon will be asleep for at least another hour.”

Harry did just as told, scrambling into the kitchen to put together the quickest batch of pancakes he’d ever made in his short life.

By the time the men of the Dursley house had gotten up, Harry had already stacked, buttered and syrupped Dudley’s pancakes and was out in the garden weeding, out of the way, out of sight, and grateful for it.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Harry had just finished weeding the garden, intent on getting back inside if only so he could get out of the terrible heat, when a reedy voice made its way towards him.

_: Ssstupid human gardensss. Trimmed and clipped and empty. No stones to bask, no prey to eat, and full of ssstupid humansss. Why make nessst here. Ssstupid mate. Ssstupid nessst. Hatchlingsss better grow quick or I’ll eat them! :_

“Hello?” Harry called out, glancing around the garden. He didn’t see anyone, but he figured if the next door neighbor was sneaking through his aunt’s garden, he ought to stay and tell her off because his aunt would be furious if he didn’t. She sounded weird though, dragging out her ‘s’s.

_: See, a stupid human hatchling, standing there like a stupid mouse. Stupid to not be afraid of me, I’ll teach this hatchling to come near my nest. I’ll bite it until it’s dead. :_

Harry stumbled back, glancing around frantically but not finding anyone. What was she talking about? What was a mate? What nest? She was going to kill Harry?!

_: Ha! Now it’s afraid. Go away, human! Get! Away from my nest! :_

Movement in the grass caught Harry’s attention, and as Harry backed up further, he could see a snake, hardly a foot long, making its way towards him with its mouth open wide.

Harry gasped, falling onto his butt as the snake advanced, throwing his arms up like they would shield him from her bite. _: W-wait! :_

When several seconds passed without Harry being attacked, he opened his eyes, yelping when he came face to face with a tiny garden snake.

_: Tiny human hatchling can speak? Tiny human hatchling understands? :_

_: Y-yes? :_ Harry stuttered as her tongue flicked out, tickling his nose.

 _: Human hatchling is a speaker, but too close to my nest… Should I bite hatchling or let it go… :_ she mused, seemingly to herself.

 _: Please let me go! I won’t come near you nest and I won’t tell anyone where it is! :_ Harry promised. The snake stared at him for a long minute before lowering itself back into the grass.

 _: See that tiny hatchling does not, :_ she hissed before turning and slithering off, grumbling to herself. _: Couldn’t have eaten it anyway. Tiny human hatchling is too big for me. Stupid human garden, having too big prey! Where is mate, going to bite when I see him. Better bring me back good prey. :_

Harry stared at where the snake disappeared to, breathing heavily like he’d just run in his school’s track race.

He’d spoken to a snake. The snake had spoken back. He was alive because he could talk to the snake, however talking to snakes was not normal. But if he’d been bitten, there would have been no way his uncle would have taken him to the hospital. Harry had never been to the hospital before, he doubted he’d ever be in his life if it were up to his uncle.

It had been years since he’d talked to a snake. When he’d been younger, snakes had been the only friends he’d had. They would find him while he was weeding or when he’d been locked out of the house because he either took to long with chores or his uncle had kicked him out. They would keep him company, whispering encouragements and love.

After he’d vowed to be normal, he never spoke to another snake again, even when he’d been dragged along to the zoo for one of Dudley’s birthdays because Mrs. Figg had been out of town. They’d passed through the reptile house without so much as a whisper reaching Harry’s ears. He’d actually forgotten about the many conversations he’d had with the snakes that would visit him, how they would stay with him for hours to cheer him up when he was crying or to make him laugh through the pain of a recent beating. He felt a pang of regret stab through him at the thought of leaving all those snakes behind because he had wanted to please his terrible relatives. He’d lost something special because his aunt and uncle didn’t think it was normal.

“BOY!”

Harry sighed, standing up and dusting off his shorts before hurrying to see what his uncle wanted. He sounded mad, which didn’t make Harry want to find the man fast but the longer he took, the more furious his uncle would be. Harry found his uncle in the kitchen with Petunia holding a sobbing Dudley. That couldn’t be good.

Harry paused in the doorway, swallowing hard. “Yes, Uncle?”

Vernon turned, his face already a livid purple. “Get in here!”

Harry tentatively stepped into the kitchen before his uncle grabbed him by the top of his hair, yanking him into the kitchen.

“Explain this!” His uncle demanded, practically shoving Harry’s face into the birthday cake his aunt had been decorating when Harry had escaped into the garden to avoid his uncle and cousin. Harry could hardly see what his uncle was talking about since his glasses were practically falling off his nose and his nose was nearly touching the iced cake, but he could make out what looked to be a large hole in the cake. Harry’s uncle shook him, and his nose did press into the cake. “WELL BOY? What do you have to say for yourself?!”

“I didn’t do it!” Harry cried, failing to not yelp when his uncle tightened the grip on Harry’s hair.

“Don’t lie! It’s bad enough you put your filthy hands on the cake my poor wife spent hours making for our little boy, but now you have the gall to lie to my face as well?” His uncle shouted, ignoring Harry’s pained shout. “Dudley told us how you threatened him when he caught you digging your grubby hands in his cake! We’ve fed you, clothed you, sent you to school, raised you since you were an infant, and this is how you repay us?! By threatening our darling son?!”

It wasn’t me, I was out weeding the garden, I swear it wasn’t me!” Harry pleaded, tears starting to form from the pain, trying to keep himself on his feet while his uncle shook him so his hair wasn’t ripped from his head.

Vernon snarled at the boy and slapped him, sending Harry into the counter, his face purpling as he screamed. “ _You ungrateful brat!_ No one here but you would deface my wife’s cake like that!”  
Harry curled up where he’d fallen, hands coming up to protect his stomach in case his uncle decided to kick him. He had a growing bruise on his cheek from where the man had backhanded him and his head throbbed where it’d hit the counter. He had a headache, a possible concussion, and his entire body felt like it was on fire.

Harry knew if he said that Dudley had been the one to swipe his pudgy fingers through Petunia’s cake he’d get beat even worse than he already had been, but he still wanted to shout at his uncle that the culprit was standing not ten feet away, grinning at the scene like it was the latest Greek tragedy, not that Harry could even say Dudley knew what those were, all because the spoiled brat had decided Harry hadn’t gotten enough of a beating the other day.

Harry wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. Instead, he cowered in front of his uncle.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” he sobbed, deciding to beg in the hopes that he would be let off with a minor beating and a few nights in the cupboard. “I’m sorry, I’ll be good, I’m sorry.”

Vernon practically roared with fury. “You’ll be more than sorry when I’m done disciplining you, freak!”

Harry choked on a sob. Freak? After all this time, his uncle still thought of him as a freak? He could hear the metallic _clack_ of Vernon’s belt as it was removed and cried out as the first lash struck his hip. More lashes followed, and when Vernon began to tire with the belt he moved on to kicking.

Harry sobbed harder, trying in vain to curl away from the pain. He thought he could hear his aunt screaming for Vernon to stop but he could hardly tell with all the shouting his uncle and cousin were doing.

Why had he given up so much for this? Going through all the terrible haircuts, all the nights never being tucked in, all the years making food, all the days spent out in the burning sun destroying his hands weeding his aunt’s garden, all the hours spent locked under stairs, all the beatings he never recovered from, all the time he’d forgone the amazing things he could do, all so that he could be “normal”.

A freezing inferno enveloped Harry, his skin blistering and his insides melting as though he had been caught in the blast of a supernova, the pleas of his aunt and slurs from his uncle drowned out as he arched his back, a blood curdling scream wrenched from his throat. He writhed on the ground, begging for the pain and his uncle to stop, for all of it to end.

_“Shhhhhhhhh…”_

The feeling of cold lips pressing into his temple stuttered his screams, icy relief spreading down his limbs and beginning to soothe him. His head felt like it was filed with cotton and his ears were ringing with the intensity of being subjected to such polar sensations in quick succession.

As the burn in his limbs subsided, Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, his throat raw from his screams and his sensitive skin stinging from where he’d clawed at it. The ringing in his ears had stopped, bringing attention to the fact that the house was now silent. How long had he been just laying there, in a pool of his own cooling blood?

Harry shakily began to sit up, holding back a gag as he separated from the congealing blood, his muscles quivering from being taut for too long. Raising a shaking arm, he rubbed the blood away from his eyes. He noted with reluctant resignation that his glasses were gone, which normally would have been a rather large problem but when he opened his blood streaked eyes, he realized he saw with a clarity that even his glasses hadn’t given him. The sight that greeted him when he looked around astounded him.

The kitchen was in ruins: cupboard doors thrown off their hinges, their contents spilled out over the floor, pots and pans were either dented and laying in a mangled heap or denting where they’d struck the walls. The sink handles had broken off, spraying water in an almost graceful arc while recipe cards and cook books burned where the water had yet to travel. But the worse thing, Harry noted, was the blood. It covered the walls, splattered onto the ceiling, and pooled on the floor, its consistency viscous where it had not yet mixed with the water from the flooding sink.

Harry stood slowly, holding onto the counter for support, not wanting to over exert his legs and slip back into the puddle of sticky fluid that squished in between his toes. When he felt confident enough that his legs wouldn’t give out any time soon, he took a step and immediately jumped back at the loud crack his step created.

Glancing down to see what he’d stepped on brought a new curtain of blood cascading over his face and he gagged as he rushed to wiped it away. When his face was clean enough, he opened his eyes before turning his attention back to the floor. And then he screamed.

Lying in front of him, skin flayed, eyes melted, and nose caved in was the severed head of Vernon Dursley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I still have a promise to keep with PIDKTWIE but the Tom/Harry pairing came out of nowhere and decided to beat me up until I wrote something down and this is the result. I'm definitely still working on PIDKTWIE and AVASAL even though this is now my main focus and it's been like two years since I've updated them, so please don't hate me ;-;
> 
> Anyway, see you in the next update, my loyal little badgers! ~ 💙


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys what the heck, it's not even been two weeks and this has already gotten over a hundred kudos and a bunch of comments. Like stop, I'm gonna die of blushing.
> 
> Anyways, this chapter has lots of plot and world building going on here and it's not beta'd sooo.... sorry :/ But, the next chapter will probably be more interesting, probably even longer, and _probably still not beta'd_ so look forward to that! :D

It was a dark night, heavy with the scent of rain and charged with the energy of a building summer storm; a perfect night for brewing potions. So why, did Severus Snape find himself climbing the steps of Hogwarts? The answer was simple really, though not one he was willing to admit to: the headmaster had called and Severus had made haste to his office, dropping everything at the sound of a bell like Pavlov’s dog. Severus scoffed at the thought as he gave the gargoyle guarding the headmaster’s office the fool old man’s sugar obsessed password. The headmaster’s dog he may be, but he didn’t have to be happy about it.

Generally, Severus wasn’t ever happy. He could be smug, or amused, or even mildly pleased but he didn’t do _happy_. The fact that he was not happy wasn’t new, nor was the cause of his unhappiness; Albus Dumbledore was an extremely trying man, whether knowingly or unknowingly - though Severus was fairly certain the old goat knew just how much he infuriated the potions master. No, it wasn’t strange for Severus to be unhappy with the headmaster. What was different was that the old man was rather unhappy with Severus as well.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so difficult about this, my boy,” Albus frowned from behind his desk, seemingly unaware just how far he was pushing the head of Slytherin house.

“Perhaps the reason I am being difficult, _headmaster_ , is because you are _not listening to me_ ,” the dark man hissed, words punctuated with scathing ire and black eyes alight with his anger.

“It’s not that difficult a task, Severus,” the older man informed for the nth time. “All I’m asking is that you go and take a quick inventory of young Harry and his relatives. Arabella is most concerned about the state of the family. None of them have left the house since young Harry’s magic spiked and I can’t afford to send any of the other professors when they are so busy preparing for the upcoming school year.”

Severus wanted to snarl at the headmaster for that last comment. Was he not also busy, exceedingly more so than the others since he had to not only brew all the potions the school supplied to students but also prepare all of the potions ingredients he was to supply for his students _by himself_ when all the other professors merely had to draw up their curriculum and organize their schedules? But he held his tongue, knowing that the argument was already over the moment Dumbledore had summoned him to his office.

He made to storm out of the headmaster’s office, pausing just before the door to toss over his shoulder. “One day you will ask too much of me, Albus. I suggest you keep that in mind.” With that he swept from the room, robes billowing behind him as he tried in vain to reign in his anger at the amused, grandfatherly smile the old goat gave him. Oh how he sometimes wished he’d never gone to the old fool for help, never taken his deal, wished he’d cursed him into oblivion when he’d had the chance. But wishing wouldn’t change the past, so Severus continued on through the school, his worn dragonhide boots _tap, tap, tapping_ on the stone floor and echoing down the empty corridors signalling just how annoyed he was. He _never_ stomped around the corridors.

He continued through the school, not slowing until he reached the dungeons and his office, stopping before his fireplace. With a wave of his wand, Severus opened it to the floo network, grabbing a pinch of floo powder before stepping through into the kneazle infested house of one Arabella Figg.

“Oh, Severus!” The elderly squib yelped, whether from his unexpected appearance or in pain from the half kneazle that had dug its claws into her leg as it fled where it had been resting. “Dumbledore sent you did he?”

Severus sneered as she stumbled over her words, walking past the rambling woman to the door. Of course the old fool sent him. He wouldn’t be here otherwise.

“Which house?” He ground out, casting a mild disillusionment on himself.

“Number Four,” she pointed through the window as if Severus could see where she meant, “right across the way, on the right.”

Giving into the urge to sneer again, the potions master made his way across the street, gaze flickering over the numbers hanging above the doors. When he found the correct house, he made his way up to the stoop, casting a silent alohamora instead of bothering with knocking. If Dumbledore was going to send him on pointless errands to check on the bloody Boy-Who-Lived then he was going to do it on his terms.

The smell that assaulted him as the door silently swung open nearly brought him to his knees. It was a foul odor he would have recognized anywhere, and though it had been long since he had been subjected to the smell, one did not just forget the stench of a rotting corpse. Swishing his wand, he banished the smell of decay before warily stepping inside. 

The lights were off and when he tried flipping the switches on the wall, sparks shot out from the light fixtures, sprinkling his robes. Cursing, he batted them off his clothes, lighting the tip of his wand while he steadily crept further inside. The hallway was empty, a door to his left leading into a bathroom while stairs led to the second level on his right. Severus continued forward, into what looked like a dining room, when he stopped cold.

In the middle of the large space was a dining table, split in half. Glancing around, Severus noted several pieces of chairs thrown about and sticking out of the walls and ceiling. However, the dining room was tame compared to the kitchen adjacent to it. Severus stared in horror at the blood coating every surface.

It was dried, meaning it wasn’t recent, which was supported by the smell that had gotten worse the further he’d ventured into the house. The floor was the only place where blood was vacant, but Severus attributed that to the fact that it was covered in water which he had yet to notice upon walking in. The light from his wand reflected as he walked through the red tinted puddle, steps silent and careful as he moved further into the kitchen. What he found left him in stunned disbelief; bodies, multiple bodies, though he couldn’t be sure how many, littered the kitchen in broken pieces. The flesh was whittled and eaten away with decay, puffy from bloating where they soaked on the wet tile, bones shattered and splintering through the sickly palored skin. Severus moves further into the kitchen, sneering at the putrid water soaking into the hem of his robes while he counted.

One… Two… Three… Three heads. Three bodies. Mostly likely the bodies of the family charged with the task of raising the Boy-Who-Lived, slaughtered in their own home without even the slightest hint of a disturbance making itself known to the headmaster. Severus scoffed, thinking of all the instruments and gadgets whistling and whirring away in the old goat’s office. Bodies strewn at his feet, in pieces no less, the Potter brat nowhere to be seen, and Dumbledore didn’t even have a clue. 

“Typical,” the potions master seethed, thinking of what his next plan of action should be. Obviously find the boy. The child was nowhere to be seen so far, though Severus had yet to check the second floor. Quickly, he made to do just that, not caring of the noise he made. If the mess in the kitchen was the result of murder, then the killer was long gone.

He barely glanced in each room he came across, moving onto the next as soon as his _Homenum Revelio_ came back negative. There weren’t many rooms to check and it was beginning to darken outside by the time he’d finished both the upper floor and briefly reswept the lower. 

Could the boy have been taken? Possibly. Perhaps a stray death eater had chances upon the boy’s residence and instead of consulting their Lord, they’d sought revenge. Which would make sense if not for the fact that Severus _knew_ Dumbledore’s silver instruments would have gone haywire the moment a death eater had gotten within five meters of the house. A muggle killer could have been the cause, but the way the kitchen was currently desecrated certainly pointed towards a magical origin. _So where was the boy?_

In a display of un-Slytherin-like emotion, Severus brought his fist against the wall, only to startle at the sound of a muffled whimper.

Severus looked over at the wall he had attacked and noticed a small door that he’d overlooked, inlaid into the stairs. It could hardly be a room, more likely a broom cupboard, so he’d overlooked it in the process of elimination. Quieting his discontent towards himself for such a grievous error, he pressed closer to the door, straining his ears. A syllabant hiss and the soft hiccuping of a child filtered through the wood, confirming his suspicions. He tried the handle, both the hissing and whimpers dying out as he fought with the door but found it stuck, as though it were locked. 

Finally, having enough of vainly tugging at the door, Severus brought forth his wand. The hissing got louder then, an angry spitting that pushed Severus to cast faster, driven by the idea of the child locked in the cupboard with something dangerous. When the door flung open, he barely had a second to dodge as a strike of white lashed out towards him, throwing up a shield as he stumbled back in to narrow hallway. The white thing struck again, but this time bounced off his shield, landing in a heap in front of the now open cupboard. 

Severus jolted as a high pitched cry and more hissing warbled out from under the stairs, followed by a tiny child stumbling out and crouching over the small white creature before looking up at him and stealing his breath. They were sunken and slightly cloudy, but he’d know those eyes anywhere: the brightest, greenest eyes he’d ever seen, staring up at him, shiny with tears and full of fear and resignation and hatred all in one. He wondered if they’d looked like that the day their previous owner closed them for the last time.

“P-please,” the boy spoke, startling Severus out of his haunted memories. His voice was rough, he noted, not from disuse but from what seemed to be the unfamiliarity of the word. “Please, don’t hurt her! I’ll do anything, you want. I’ll even go to The Orphanage, just please don’t hurt my friend!”

Severus stood stock-still. Harry potter was to be turning ten this year, and this child looked at least three or four years younger: his skin, chalky and gaunt, practically paper thin, revealing the veins under his skin, arms and legs knobby, like he was nothing but skin and bones. But his hair… even though his hair was matted with what Severus assumed was blood, it still stuck up at odd angles, refusing to be tamed. A signature trademark of the Potters. That, combined with those eyes Severus would never forget, made it certain the boy could only be Harry James Potter. 

Movement on the boy’s shoulder drew his attention, and Severus blinked as he was confounded once again. 

It was a snake. A small, white snake, coiling up the boy’s arm and resting its head protectively on his shoulder. A snake that had, mere moments ago, tried to bite him. It stared at him with unholy red eyes, as if daring him to try and take Potter up on his offer. It was clearly intelligent, perhaps magical, but Severus had never seen a magical snake of its kind before. 

Slowly, he reholstered his wand, before kneeling down and holding up his hands placatingly. The snake seemed to relax, but it stared after his every movement’s still. He refocused on the boy, who looked just as skeptical if not more tense.

“Who are you?” He demanded, voice even now that it seemed the threat of danger had passed. “You don’t look like a police officer. My uncle said they were lazy and good-for-nothing and that they’d drag me away as soon as I talked to them.”

 _Is that so_ , Snape thought, raising an eyebrow incredulously. Instead of voicing his thoughts, he answered the question. “My name is Severus Snape. I’m a professor at Hogwarts, a school for magic.”

Harry’s eyes widened before he narrowed them again, taking a step back while raising a hand to cover his snake. Despite the strange situation, Severus could still appreciate the boy’s caution. “Lying isn’t nice. My uncle said magic doesn't’t exist. He said only freaks and stupid people believe in magic.”

Before Severus could answer, the snake on Harry’s shoulder hissed. Harry glanced at it before flushing and looking away apologetically and hissing in return. Had Severus been any less dignified, he would have let his jaw drop, but he’d already behaved most undignified by fumbling about the house for as long as he did. So he let his eyes widen in astonishment but that was it.

Harry noticed his expression and flushed harder, drawing his eyebrows together before grumbling, “but I guess if magic didn’t exist then I wouldn’t be able to talk to Mati.”

Severus swallowed. “Is that the name of your snake?”

“She’s not my snake. She’s my _friend_ ,” Harry scowled, crossing his arms. “Her name is Anumati.” Mati hissed again and Harry’s scowl deepened. “Mati says I’m supposed to give you my name since you told me yours.”

Severus smirked at how Slytherin the boy was being, not trusting in him just because he was an adult or a teacher. “While she is correct, it would be pointless since I already know your name, Mr. Potter.”

Harry hissed, scooting back and dropping into a crouch, Mati raising up on his shoulder. “How?”

Severus kept his hands raised. “I was asked to check upon your wellbeing.”

“By who?” The boy demanded.

“My employer,” was all the potions master gave him.

Harry was unsatisfied. “Your employer at Hogwarts?”

Severus smirked. “Yes.”

Harry slowly came out of his crouch, but his stance was kept at the ready if he needed to run. He glanced behind the potions master and his expression morphed to one of fear. “What are you going to tell them?” Harry whispered.

Severus followed the boy’s gaze, towards the dinning room before glancing back at the child, giving him a calculated look. “Tell me something, Mr. Potter. Did your family… treat you differently?”

Mati reared up at his question, hissing. Harry frowned. “Mati says they did. She says it was neglect and abuse.” Harry turned back to Severus, his eyes wide. “But my family was just trying to make me normal! Everything they did, it was normal!”

Mati seemed to disagree with him as she began to hiss and spit fervently. From the way she reacted to Harry’s defense, Severus could guess just how they had tried to make him _“normal”_. Severus had seen many halfblood and muggleborn children - Merlin, even pureblood children - turned away by the great Albus Dumbledore, despite the obvious signs of neglect and abuse. The potions master could even guess that Dumbledore had left the boy here on purpose, trying to instill some sort of love for muggles or some utter nonsense about wanting the boy to grow up away from the fame and fortune his name held in the wizarding world. Oh, if only Dumbledore could see his golden boy now.

“Were there ever things that happened around you that you couldn’t explain, Mr. Potter? Things that made your relatives angry?” Snape asked, continuing. He had a suspicion of how the kitchen was decorated the way it currently was.

“Umm…” Harry glanced at Mati, who flicked her tongue out at him. “Y-yes, when I was younger. It hadn’t happened for a while now.”

Hadn’t, meaning it had been a while but it had just happened. Wording was such an important factor.  
“Mr. Potter,” Severus murmured, trying to be as nonthreatening as he could. “Was one of those things recent?”

Harry was breathing heavily, eyes darting across the floor in terror. “I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me, it couldn’t have been me, I’m normal.” Harry looked up, eyes pleading. “I’m normal. I’m normal, right Mr. Snape?”  
Severus frowned. If his hypothesis was correct and Harry felt threatened, it could end badly for him. However, there was only a fifty percent chance that Harry was what he thought he was. 

“Mr. Snape?” Severus drew himself back from his thoughts, looking at the child. Harry took a deep breath, petting the white snake on his shoulder nervously. “Are you going to send me to The Orphanage?”

“No,” he replied immediately. He knew how mean _magical_ children could be. Sending a magical child to a house full of non magical children was just a recipe for disaster. From the look on Harry’s face, Severus could imagine the stories his uncle had told him. And if Severus’s theory was correct, there was still a chance of saving the child and that chance would become very slim if he told Albus and had the child sent to _another_ abusive home.

“What’s going to happen to me then?” Harry asked, looking almost scared.

Severus contemplated him for a moment. He could save the boy, it was risky, but he could. He had to, he owed her that much. Standing, he offered the child his hand. “Come, I will take you somewhere safe.”

Harry hesitated, glancing up at the now looming professor before taking the man’s hand and disappearing from № 4 Privet Drive.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Severus wasted no time in extracting Harry’s childhood from him as he set about running diagnostic charms and gathering potions and salves to fix all the traumas that appeared on the ever extending medical report: malnutrition, bones that weren’t properly set, dehydration, head trauma, older cases of untreated frostbite and sun poisoning, an array of internal bleeding, cuts and bruises that were fairly recent. The more Severus read, the more he raged.

Dumbledore had told him that the boy was _safe and prospering_ , turning out to br _just like his father_. Clearly he either been led astray by Dumbledore, or the old goat was a blind _fool_. The potions master kept his rage to a quiet mutter though, as the boy he was currently treating was staring apprehensive at everything around him.

“Today was different though,” Harry murmured, making a face as he downed yet another potion Severus thrusted into his hand. He had initially refused to drink any substance the potions master had shoved under his nose until his snake gave a rather harsh hiss.

“What was different?” Said potions master questioned, smearing a healing salve over the boys back with a flick of his wand. Severus expected a wince from the sting he knew it created, but Harry merely stared blankly ahead, petting the scales of his snake absently.

“I’m not sure,” he breathed. “There was this dream, at least I think it was a dream. There was someone in my bedroom. I thought it was Dudley, come to poke and taunt me, but they blended into the shadows so well that it couldn’t have been him. He likes being loud and hard to miss. Whenever they were still allowed to play Harry Hunting, Piers was the one to sneak around and ambush me if it looked like I was going to escape, like a cowardly rat.” Harry spat before shaking his head minutely. “Sorry, that’s not a nice thing to say.”

“You are valid in all of your feelings, Mr. Potter. Just because something you think of someone is not nice, does not necessarily make it wrong,” Snape continued, lathering more ointments onto the boy’s skin. “However, it is perhaps wise to think of the position you are in before you verbally attack someone, else they may end up _physically_ attacking you.”

“Don’t outwardly ridicule people unless I’m certain I can get away with it,” Harry deadpanned. “Got it.”

“Quite,” unbeknownst to the nine year old, Snape gave the boy a rather proud smirk. “Continue on, Mr. Potter.”

Harry nodded, swinging his legs. “Well, whoever it was wasn’t Dudley, because Dudley is really short and meaty, but this person was tall and spindly. And their voice was really soft, kind of high pitched and raspy like they hadn’t talked in a while. I think it was a man, but I’m not really sure because I never got to see their face. It could have been a lady. Anyway, they kind of… cradled me? Yeah, they cradled me in their arms and they kept telling me that they were my friend and that they were trying to keep me safe and then they said I was special and talented.” Harry paused, his shoulders scrunching up. 

“I think they were lying.” He whispered.

Severus noted the furious hissing from the little serpent on his shoulder. “I believe your” he caught himself before he referred to the snake as a snake, “ _friend_ , greatly disagrees with you, Mr. Potter.”

“You know, you could just call me Harry,” the boy said, turning his back to look up at the potions professor. “You don’t have to keep referring to me so politely. I’m not anything special, just the son of a drunk and a harlot that died in a car crash. Just Harry is fine.”

Severus stared at the boy, the battered, humbled, broken child, before him in utter astoundment. Proud James Charlus Potter a drunkard and Lily, lovely Lily Julia Evans, a _harlot? A common whore?_ Had they not already been, Severus would have ended the Dursley family in the messiest way possible. Instead he took the boy who looked so much like his schoolyard rival but acted so much like his childhood love by the shoulders and gazed at him imploringly, ignoring the warning hiss the small snake on Harry’s shoulder sent him.

“Harry, I need you to listen to what I’m going to tell you. I need you to keep an open mind.” It wasn’t begging, but for Severus Snape, it was pretty close.

Harry looked at him like the man had grown another head but after a glance at his snake, he nodded his head.

“I knew your parents, your mother especially. Severus took a deep breath, noting the disbelief in Harry’s eyes, but also the sliver of hope. “We went to Hogwarts together, and I can tell you that they were the furthest thing away from a drunkard and a harlot. Your mother and I were friends before school; we grew up together here. She was smart, and kind, and brave and the brightest witch of her age.” Harry’s eye were practically sparkling. “Your father, he and I were… let us just say that he and I were not the closest. He was…” Severus paused. This was his chance to get back at his school rival, to turn the only thing left of his memory against him. But as he looked down into the wide and hopeful eyes of his best friend, he felt his pettiness crumble like an ashwinder after it had laid its eggs. “He was well liked by everyone. He was also brave, lively and mischievous - _as the devil himself_.” Severus muttered the last part, but Harry caught the contempt in the man’s tone.

“Did you and my dad not get along?” He asked.

Snape grimaced. “Your father was… biased. Granted, I was perhaps no better. You see, there are four different houses at Hogwarts: Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. He and your mother were in Gryffindor: the house of the brave and chivalrous. I, however, was sorted into Slytherin: the house of cunning and ambition. Slytherins and Gryffindors don’t often get along. You see, Slytherins are often… mislabeled.. Many great witches and wizards have come from the Slytherin house, but many of those great witches and wizards are what the magical world calls dark.”

Harry’s eyebrows rose. “Like… like they were mean?” He whispered.

Severus wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose. Salazar preserve him, but he was not cut out for this! Taking a deep breath, he answered as well as he could. “Some were. Some weren’t. It’s difficult to explain…” The look in Harry’s pleading eyes was absolutely diabolical and should have been illegal. Severus was going soft. He conceded anyway with a sigh. “Dark witches and wizards are people who practice the Dark Arts. The Dark Arts are magic from the days of olde, back when witches and wizards were still known to the muggles-”

“What are muggles?”

This time Snape gave into the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Non magical persons. muggleborns are witches and wizards that have two muggle parents yet somehow inherited magic. Your mother was a muggleborn. Purebloods are witches and wizards that have only magical ancestors. Your father was a pureblood. Halfbloods are witches and wizards who come from any of the three paired together.”

“So… I’m a halfblood?” Harry questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Correct,” Severus was half blinded by the boy’s beaming smile. “As I was saying, back when witches and wizards were known to muggles, all forms of magic were allowed to be practiced. That is, until the Statute of Secrecy was put into place, making it illegal for witches and wizards to make themselves and the magical world known to the muggles.”

“Why is that?”

“Have you heard of the Witch Hunts?”

“You mean where people would be killed by being burned in a big fire pit?”

“And by other means, but essentially yes. Many who were killed were indeed witches and wizards, and so the magical world was in a panic. Thus the Statute was created in order to protect our people, but it also limited our magic because the muggles had forbidden us use of certain spells.”

“What?! But that’s not fair!” Harry cried. “They can’t use magic, so why do they get to tell witches and wizards what spells to use?”

Severus smirked. “Indeed. Now, are you going to let me finish?”

Harry let his mouth snap shut but he pushed out his bottom lip in a pout. Severus prayed to the Olde Magics for strength.

“The Ministry of Magic is the wizarding government, and were the ones who made the concord with the muggles. Some of the spells and branches of magic they have deemed illegal are certainly dangerous to practice and require years of discipline; an amateur with no training could harm not only themselves but others as well. The amount of dark spells that are fairly harmless that they have since made illegal were only done so in order to hide the fact that they are, essentially, the muggle ministry’s lap dog. Dark magic is not _bad_ or _wrong_. It is a branch of magic that comes with greater risks and has the _potential_ to harm, but the potential comes from the one _wielding_ the magic. Not everyone who practices dark magic is-”

Harry cut off Severus’s lecturing by reaching out and placing a small hand on his cheek, looking sullen before glancing up through his lashes at the potions master. “You don’t have to justify yourself, Mr. Snape. I know plenty about false accusations.”

Severus swallowed, words of denial and spite and thanks all fighting to leave him, but he bit his tongue and cleared his throat. “Yes, well, we got rather off topic, didn't we?”

Harry smiled in lieu of an answer, dropping his hand to pet opalescent scales.

Severus nodded. “Anyway, your parents were exceptionally gifted in magic. Your father was an auror, the equivalent of muggle police, and your mother was an unspeakable, which is something like a magical scientist I suppose. They were very respected, even before the war.”

“Wizards can have wars?” Harry asked surprisedly.

“Yes, they aren’t known to muggles because of the Statute, but many of our wars are vicious and bloody. The last war we had ended ten years ago and it was over the Statute and the banning of the Dark Arts. There was a man who led the side who wanted the Dark Arts revived, the Dark Lord, and then there was the man who opposed him, the headmaster at Hogwarts.”

“Your boss fought in the war?” Harry asked excitedly.

Severus grimaced. “Yes, and the one before it.”

“He sounds like a pretty powerful wizard.” Harry stated.

“In certain ways. Now pay attention.”

“Sorry.”

“As I was saying, the Dark Lord heard of a prophecy: that a baby born at the end of July would have the power to defeat him. He was worried of what would happen if that child grew up, raised by those who sought his destruction, and ended the rebellion he had put so much time and effort into cultivating. So he cast his spies out to listen for news of children being born and when he determined the closest match to the prophecy, he set out to nullify the prophecy. When he arrived at the house, he stormed it, killing the occupants before turning his wand on the child but when he cast the spell to end the child’s life, it rebounded, ending his life instead of the child’s. The only thing left of him was a pile of ash, and a lightning bolt scar left on the child’s forehead.”

Harry’s eyes widened, his hand flying up to his forehead where his fingers traces a familiar path over the jagged scar that resided there. 

“Yes, Harry,” Snape conceded. “Many believe the child of prophecy is you.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “But you don’t.” He stated.

“I believe,” Severus hesitated, “that prophecies are self fulfilling. You are indeed the child of prophecy, but only because of the actions taken the day of your parents’ deaths. Had the Dark Lord determined to leave the child alone, the prophecy might have never been fulfilled. Though, I suppose that would have been a more acceptable approach had he known the full prophecy.”

Harry sat silently, absorbing everything he’d been told before he looked back up at the potions master. “How do you _know_ all this?”

“Because Mr. Potter,” Severus sighed, staring back into the deep emerald eyes he had once loved with all his heart. “I was the one who told the Dark Lord of the prophecy.”

The gasp of betrayal and the hasty retreat from his presence that Severus had expected never came. The only reaction Harry had was the widening of his eyes. The snake on his shoulder, however, had a much more violent reaction, spitting and hissing as it reared up. Just when Severus was sure it would strike, and hand came up, separating him from the the snake’ line of sight. He looked back over to those achingly familiar eyes, finding suspicion and confusion in them.

“Why are you telling me this?” Harry asked.

Snape gave a humourless smile. “I’m not quite sure. Perhaps as a duty to your mother, who I regret having a hand in killing. Perhaps for confessing my sins, and hoping they will be forgiven. Perhaps to give you a chance to escape me and the plans I have made for you since removing you from your previous… habitation.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up at the confession, staring at the potions master for a brief period of silence before he gave a tentative smile. “You know, I can see why my mom was friends with you, Mr. Snape. You’re a lot nicer than you pretend to be.” 

At that, Harry hopped down from the table the potions master had situated him on, ignoring the look of shock as he watched scattering bits of dried blood fall onto the floor from where they flaked off his person. He reached a hand up to feel his hair, making a face when more blood flaked off. “I suppose I don’t really have a choice… You kind of saved me so I guess we can go with whatever you’ve planned for me, but before that,” Harry gave the still stunned potions master a grimace. “May I clean up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're just going to pretend that Harry is really smart and articulate for a ten year old. Actually, we're not going to pretend, because I have a nine year old sister and she says words _I_ have to google the meaning of sometimes.
> 
> Anyway, see you in the next update my devious little snakes! ~ 💙


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I'm so sorry that this chapter isn't any longer. I just didn't feel like I should add anything else. I also wanted to get two chapters out so I could spoil you guys but chapter 4 is really fighting me. Please pray for it to frickin' behave so I don't have an aneurysm. 
> 
> Also, does anyone know the definition of sneer? Because I sure didn't and I decided "Hey, I'm really using this word a lot... Maybe I should actually look it up to get a precise definition." And guess who was very wrong about what the definition would be? That's right, kiddos, it was _m o i_ ٩( ᐛ )و
> 
> Here's the definition I _thought_ it was:  
> to pull one's lip back in disdain or disgust.  
>  _"he sneered at her uncouth appearance."_
> 
> And here's the real definition:  
> a contemptuous or mocking smile, remark, or tone.  
>  _"he acknowledged their presence with a condescending sneer"_
> 
> So, as an author I'm doing _g r e a t_. ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_
> 
>  ***IMPORTANT UPDATE!!!***  
>  I've changed the quotations to colons for parseltongue and I also got rid of all the excess s's, so if you guys are confused over it, _: this is now parseltongue. :_

A bath filled with too many bubbles, a pair of shrunken robes, a hot meal and several blankets later found Harry Potter mentally and physically exhausted, tucked into the softest bed he’d ever lain in before even though Mr. Snape had apologized for the “state” the room was in. Harry thought Mr. Snape was perhaps too picky. The bed was practically as soft as a cloud. 

Even so, he was still laying wide awake, his mind racing with everything that had happened in the past few days: He’d met Mati and Mr. Snape, he’d learned about his parents and the wizarding world, he’d talked to a strange creature called a house elf who had gotten him settled into a bath and had made him delicious food, and… he’d killed his relatives.

 _: You should be sleeping, hatchling, :_ Anumati cooed, curling tightly over Harry’s chest, disrupting his thoughts. _: You have not slept for three sun spans. :_

 _: I know, Mati, : He agreed. :_ I’m still trying to process everything I guess. :

 _: You overthink everything, hatchling, :_ she hissed, but let the boy be, resting her head down over his heart.

Harry didn’t reply, letting his mind wander to what Mr. Snape had said just before he’d left Harry to clean up.

_“Under no circumstance,” Snape stressed, “are you to let anyone know that you can speak to snakes.”_

_Unhappy, Harry had drawn his eyebrows together, “Why?”_

_“It is not a skill many look upon fondly, nor possess. The less who know of your gift, the safer you’ll be.” Severus took him by the shoulders, expression beseeching. “Promise me this, Harry.”_

_Harry could do nothing but agree at the distressed look on Severus Snape’s face._

Harry sighed, letting the memory slip away. 

_: I don’t like it. I mean, it must be important if Mr. Snape said so, but I don't like that I can’t speak to you unless I’m certain no one’s listening! You’re my only friend, Mati, :_ Harry cried, pulling the snake close to him as he turned on his side.

Anumati flicked her tongue out, the tip tickling at Harry’s nose, ignoring the jostling movements in favor of comforting her small charge. _: Take heart, hatchling. I will always be there for you. Even if_ you _cannot speak, I will speak to you. I shall always speak to you. :_

 _: Promise? :_ Harry tried to keep his voice even, but his throat was thick with unshed tears which made his voice warble.

 _: Upon my dying breath. :_ She agreed, butting her nose against his cheek. _: Now, close your eyes and sleep. There are many wonders that await you tomorrow. :_

Content now that his friend had reassured him, Harry let himself fall into a heavy sleep. And if he thought he might have felt a hand threading through his raven locks... 

Well, no one had to be the wiser.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Meanwhile, after Severus had directed Harry to his bathing chambers, he made his way to his fireplace, scowling at it as though it had done him a great wrong. He was tense, his arms crossed to keep himself idle as fidgeting was a weakness that Severus would never succumb to, even in his own home. Finally, as though he had lost some internal battle, his expression morphed into a sneer. Taking a pinch from a small bowl off the mantle, he threw floo powder into his fireplace, calling out a strained “Malfoy Manor”. 

It only took a few moments before the elegant features of Narcissa Malfoy were staring back from the flames, her expression concerned. “Severus?”

“Is Lucius in?” He questioned, folding his hands behind his back to hide their incessant shaking, trying to pitch his voice normal.

“Yes, he just got back from a ministry session and went to clean up before dinner,” she eyed Severus concernedly. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“It’s… delicate. I was called by Dumbledore this afternoon and he asked me to go-” Severus paused, unsure how much he could inform her of over such an unsecure form of communication. “Perhaps you should come through and see for yourself… alone.”

Narcissa stared for a moment longer. Severus felt as though her icy eyes were drilling untrusting holes through him before she finally nodded her head agreeably. “Alright, let me just call an elf to watch Draco.”

Severus let out the breath he’d been holding while he released the call, Narcissa’s face disappearing as the fire died down to a dull flame. He opened his fireplace to the floo network before stepping back to let the Lady Malfoy through.

The roar of the fireplace let Severus know Narcissa had crossed through, but he didn’t offer her a greeting.

“Severus?” She called gently. “Are you quite alright?”

“I’m… not sure,” he admitted, letting a sigh slip from his lips. “I’ve been have a rather... _trying_ day.”

“I still have an hour or so before I’m missed. Why don’t we sit down and you can tell me about your day.” She suggested calmly.

“Yes…” the potions master agreed absently before clearing his throat. “Yes, alright.”

Severus’s let Narcissa drag him over to his sitting area, while she called for his house elf to prepare a pot of tea. They waited in silence until the elf came back with a fresh pot and was then ushered away after it had poured them their cups. Just to avoid talking a while longer, Severus took a long, slow sip from his cup.

“I am no Legilimens, Severus,” Narcissa prompted after waiting a small while for the potions master to speak, lips upturned in amusement even while her eyes held concern.

Severus didn’t answer, continuing to just stare at his cup. Could Severus trust Narcissa? Dare he speak and chance fate? 

No. He couldn’t trust her. But he could play to her feelings. She had a son, his godson Draco. She knew now the joys and fears of motherhood. And Severus needed her. He could not keep the boy hidden and safe from the clutches of either side without her help.

Finally, he turned from the one sided staring contest with his tea. “Harry Potter.”

Narcissa’s expression twisted for a moment, lips curling at the mention of Potter. “What of him?” She asked, her tone still genteel if not confused.

“Dumbledore sent me to check upon him.”

“Whatever for? Isn’t the child being kept well, given his every wish? That’s what you said he’d told you, last time you spoke with the headmaster about the boy.”

“Yes, that is what I was told,” Severus murmured, going back to his staring contest. 

“You found evidence that spoke otherwise,” it wasn’t a question on her part. 

“ _Immensely,_ ” Severus choked out. 

Narcissa stared at him far a while longer before sighing. “Pippy!”

There was a resounding crack, followed by a squeaky, high pitched “Yes, Lady Malfoy! What can Pippy be’s doing for Master and Lady?”

“A shot of gin for our tea,” Narcissa instructed, earning a raised eyebrow from the potions master that she returned with a raised eyebrow of her own.

“Right away, Milady.”

Severus had stared at their tea while Pippy had spiked it with a mere snap of her fingers, wondering whether it was a good idea before downing the whole cup after she’d popped away, pouring himself another one and downing that as well.

“Now then, Severus,” Narcissa began, taking a dignified sip of her own spiked tea. “You were sent to check on Harry Potter. What did you find?”

“A tomb,” the potions master stated, voice barely above a whisper.

Narcissa frowned, “come again?” 

“A _tomb_ , Narcissa. The kitchen in ruins like a battlefield, blood dripping from the ceiling and body parts strewn about, rotting and putrid, and at the foot of it all I found the boy: stuffed in a broom cupboard under the stairs, hardly big enough for a house elf to live in.”Narcissa blinked, stunned into silence as Severus carried on eyes glazed like he was a seer slipping into the Beyond. “He was covered in blood, shaking like a leaf. Yet I could still see the chalkiness of his skin: gaunt, practically paper thin. I could see his veins everywhere. His arms and legs, knobby, like he was nothing but skin and bones. And his eyes-” 

_Her eyes_. Severus could never forget them. How he’d opened the door to that small cupboard in № 4 Privet Drive and those eyes had been waiting there, staring up at him in terror yet still fairly defiant. They haunted him: blamed him, accused him, asked him why, _why, **why**_. Why hadn’t he come sooner? Why hadn’t he saved them? Why hadn’t he _known_? He’d sworn his life to those eyes; to the woman they had belonged to and the child who now possessed them.

Severus had to force himself to take a deep breath, lest his regrets overtook him. 

“He lived with muggles.” He detoured, pouring himself yet another cup of tea.

Narcissa let her aloof expression break into disgust. “No.”

“He did,” Severus confirmed, taking a sip of his tea. “They were his family, on his mother’s side. I met her sister, once. I can only imagine how terrible she grew up to be from what the child’s told me.”

Narcissa froze at his words. “Severus… the child was alive?”

“The child _is_ alive.” The potions master grimaced, taking another swallow of his tea as Narcissa’s expression grew horrified. “He’s sleeping in the other room.”

Narcissa shot to her feet, wand out as though she was preparing for an attack. “You _stole_ Harry Potter? Severus, are you mad! If Dumbledore finds out- no if the _Dark Lord_ finds out you-”

“I had no choice.” Severus cut in, voice monotonous and expression blank, nothing giving away how he really felt about his situation. “A child his age, living in an abusive household that hates magic, that was practically torn to shreds from the inside? I’m not willing to send him into Dumbledore’s waiting arms for ‘the greater good’ only for it to happen again when he’s sent away to another magic hating household.”

“Severus, you’re not suggesting-” Narcissa gasped. “You think that he’s... obscurial?” She whispered the last word, her hand coming up to muffle the grief and terror that hung heavy on her tongue. No child deserved that fate, no matter what blood or magic they came from.

The potions master stared ahead silently, and for a moment Narcissa thought he would deny her an answer, but then he slowly shook his head. “I don’t know. The destruction of his relatives and their home suggests so, but all of the tests and scans I’ve administered have come up blank.”

Narcissa slowly sank back down into her seat. “Could it be powerful enough to mask itself?” She asked.

Severus looked up at her. “I don’t know. Even with the breakthrough in obscurial research, the cases are still rare and all unique, especially in this day and age. It could very well be that it’s hidden itself from us depending on how long it’s been there and how powerful it is.”

Narcissa, pale in complection already, became ghostly white as her hand covered her heart, eyes widened in terror. “Circe preserve us. The Boy Who Lived, an obscurus. The public would be hysterical.”

Severus nodded absently.

Another silence fell around them, Narcissa taking many swallows from her tea while Severus merely sat forward, expression pensive as he clasped his hands together. 

“What are you going to do?” She asked finally, voice steady once again.

The potions master glanced over at her, eyes dark and hooded in contemplation.“I wish to hide him.”

“That’s a rather impossible feat considering who he is.” She stated.

“I know.” He agreed, fixing his eyes in front of him once again before he spoke his next words. “I need your help.”

Narcissa gave a sharp inhale, back straightening. “Severus, you are my friend, practically family as it were, and I know how much she meant to you and what you swore, but I have a son to think of and-”

“Narcissa, I know what I ask of you is much and what I have to offer is little,” Severus stated. “I know how much you would risk in helping me. I understand but...”

Narcissa frowned, when Severus quieted again. “But?” She prompted.

He turned his fathomless eye onto her, the deep onyx pools full of emotion that made her soften slightly, reminded of the quiet boy she’d met who would stand quietly, bearing injuries and insults with little change to his expression because it was all held deep in his eyes. Eyes she would look into while she fixed bruises and mended bones. 

Severus sighed, his eyes closed and the moment was gone, but still she waited for his answer. When he finally opened them again, she found a desperate plea staring back at her, begging the only way he knew how. “He’s just a boy.”

Narcissa flinched, looking away from the potions master’s emotion filled eyes. Quietly, she stood, lips drawn tight.

“Narcissa-”

“Show me to him.”

Severus froze, halfway out of his seat.

“As a person who practices the medical arts, it is of my top priority before we go through any sort of plan you’ve concocted that I see him and diagnose anything you may have missed.” She explained, still refusing to look at him.

“Of course…” hesitantly, Severus stood, leading her down the hall. They stopped when they came to the room where Severus had left Harry.

He knocked softly, listening for quiet hissing or bare feet padding towards the door. When he heard neither, her turned the handle, letting the door swing open before entering the bedroom.

It was dark, save for a thin sliver of sunlight starting to bleed in as it began to set behind the horizon. Harry’s head was peeking out from under the covers, the only visible parts of him being his hair and his barely visible scar. Snape gestured for Narcissa to enter. After she had a brief look about, she took a step towards the bed but froze when as a soft hiss built in warning. Slowly, the covers shifted until the sleek head of Anumati was poking out, ruby eyes trained on the two intruders.

“Severus?” Narcissa intoned, glancing warily over at the potions master, who’s expression had become pinched. “What is a _snake_ doing in his _bed_?”

“It was with him when I found him,” the man answered. “It has remained since. According to the boy, it will ignore you so long as you do nothing untoward.”

“Wonderfully reassuring,” she deadpanned. Taking another step forward, Narcissa kept complete eye contact with the snake, carefully drawing her wand. When the snake made no move to strike, she waved the wand in a gentle arc, a bound medical examination scroll appearing to her left.

Pocketing her wand, Narcissa grabbed the scroll and hastily evacuated to a distance she deemed far enough from the snake who had lowered its head onto the sheets like a lazy guard dog. Narcissa frowned, not fooled in the slightest.

Quietly, taking her eyes off of the seemingly harmless snake, she went through the scroll, expression growing cold with each pass of her eyes. When she was done, the scroll vanished, escaping her hands that were now clenched into fists.

“This is the damage done then?” She asked, voice quavering.

“Much likely less, considering the amount of potions I fed him.” Severus had to force himself to keep from flinching when her eyes landed on him. Her icy eyes were like silver flames, so cold they burned. The only thing keeping her contained was the reminder that the boy was asleep and watching by his side, a possibly deadly snake. 

So she took a deep breath instead before addressing Severus. “What potions have you given him so far?”

“Dittany, just for the worst of his lacerations, a nutrient potion, skelegrow, a blood replenishing potion for some slight anemia, and then a calming draught.”

“Yes, that should be fine,” Narcissa murmured. “Do another two nights with the skelegrow and then perhaps three more weeks of nutrient potions. I don’t think they’ll fix all of the damage done to his body, but they should help, especially the skelegrow. If he still seems a little pallid in the morning then give him another replenishing potion. As for your plans…?”

“Blood adoption.”

Narcissa hummed. “I can get you an appointment. The sooner you can claim guardianship of him, the easier this will be. What of Dumbledore?”

“I’ve yet to send him my patronus,” Severus admitted.

“That could work against you. He may become suspicious,” she said, lifting a hand to her lips thoughtfully. “Don’t send him one. Visiting him personally will be seen as an act of trust. Tell him what you found but add in that you found footprints in the blood leading away from the house, preferably to somewhere secluded.”

“You will be taking care of creating those I assume?” Snape asked with a raised brow.

“Of course I will be, Severus. Who do you think I am?” Narcissa smirked.

The potions master sighed but smiled nonetheless. “Thank you, Narcissa.”

“Yes, well,” she frowned, looking back over to the child sleeping soundly with a soft light in her eye. “He is just a boy, isn’t he?”

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Narcissa ended up having to leave before they’d finished planning, but with a promise that she would take care of the minor details and that she would send an elf over when she was ready. In the meantime, Severus was to report to the headmaster on his… _observations._

They had decided - more Narcissa had decided - that should anyone ask, to suggest that the spouse of a death eater had found where Harry had been sent to reside and thus devised a plan to infiltrate the house and killed everyone in a fit of rage. It was rather brilliant actually, though Narcissa _had_ come up with it. 

Many of the death eater’s spouses had decided to show silent support, hosting influential balls and hiding those who were known by face and name while also being able to safely raise their children without bringing the ire of the Dark Lord upon themselves. Narcissa herself was one such spouse. However, the night Harry had survived, many had come out of hiding and killed in fits of rage and grief over their lost Lord. That left the spouses who had not taken the dark mark and simply offering support widowed while their counterparts resided in Azkaban and left Severus and Narcissa a perfect ploy for revenge to work with. 

Severus had no idea how she was going to convince the entirety of wizarding Britain that Harry Potter was dead, but he trusted her resources and ability to plan, so he would wait.

Pausing just before the gargoyle guarding the headmaster’s office, Severus cleared his mind of their plans, focusing on the images of the Dursley residence and the cover story as to why he’d not gone straight back to Hogwarts. His expression shifted to the perfect depiction of agitation as he hurriedly gave the gargoyle the password before hastening his way up the steps. He didn't even wait for Dumbledore to acknowledge him before he was bursting through the headmaster’s door.

Dumbledore, even keen and observant, noticed his demeanor right away and stood. “Severus, my dear boy, is everything quite alright?”

“Albus, it’s Potter.” He rushed.

The headmaster was immediately on alert, coming around his desk and grabbing at the potion master’s shoulders. “What about Harry? What’s happened?”

“The house,” Severus took a large breath. “The kitchen was practically destroyed and the bodies-” he gagged letting the memory of mutilated corpses swelling in the stagnant water wash over him. “They were in pieces, Albus.”

Dumbledore’s face lost all colour at the description but patted the potions master’s shoulder nonetheless, as if to reassure him. “Did you count how many?”

“Three,” The headmaster’s head whipped up, hope shining in his eyes. Severus had to fight not to sneer.

Dumbledore moved away after giving Severus another pat muttering softly to himself before addressing Severus again. “Did you see any signs of our young mister Potter?”

Severus took a deep breath. Now came the lies. “No, but I did pick up a faint adolescent magical signature, so the boy was most likely there. That and…”

Albus perked up as Severus paused. “And?”

“There were footprints in that led outside.” At least there would be when Narcissa took a little trip to Surrey. “They were too big to be a child’s. I followed them until I reached a forest behind the house but they went no farther after that.”

“A perpetrator perhaps… chasing after the boy no doubt.”

“That is the conclusion I came to as well.” Severus agreed.

“That must have been why his magic spiked so suddenly, saving him from whoever was trying to harm him.” Dumbledore frowned. “But not his relatives.”

“Albus,” Severus rebuked. “Accidental magic is not know to save anyone in danger but its host.”

“Yes… Yes, you’re right,” Albus stood again, moving to sit behind his desk with a cloudy but pensive expression. “Thank you, Severus. I’ll be sending discreet search parties for the boy as soon as I can. You may go.”  
Severus turned, but paused wondering if he should bring up such a matter and if it would put him off the headmaster’s radar.

Albus noticed and smiled. “Is there something else, my boy?”

Cursing softly, Severus realized that Dumbledore was most likely expecting him to ask about the matter. “I was wondering,” the potions master started slowly. “If this incident will have any effect on our… _agreement_.”

Albus chuckled weakly, steepling his hands on his desk. “That would hardly be fair since you knew nothing of the situation to put a stop to it. I know where the boundaries lie, Severus. Worry not, your life is safe.”  
Severus stood for a moment longer, noticing the way the smile on the headmaster’s face grew just an nth more before he nodded and vacated the room, praying to every deity he knew that all his years of playing spy would pay off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did Severus originally have a house elf? Probably not. Did I give him one in this? Yes I did. You can't tell me that Lucius and Narcissa wouldn't have given the godfather of their son, who probably knows nothing about taking care of himself because he's such a dungeon bat who does nothing but make potions, a house elf. Also, I'm really sorry for like all of the OOCness. I'm trying to keep them as close to their original characterization (or what I think their original characterization should be) while also fitting them to my purposes.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading and see you in the next (hopefully very soon) update my lordly little lions! ~ 💙


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, a ghost, risen from the graveyard that is college to give you, my wonderful readers who have given me an undeserved 400 and some odd kudos for _only three fucking chapters with no guarantee of an ending_ , this 7000 word chapter where we accomplish n o t h i n g. : )
> 
> Just kidding, we get _some_ shit done in this chapter.
> 
> But for real, I've been MIA for a whole month and I'm sorry for that, y'all. As I said before, college has started up, the reason I was MIA for a whole month but now that I've kind of settled into my schedule, updating shouldn't be too bad. I just want to remind y'all that even though this fic is my baby, writing is still my side hoe. You'd think going to school for art wouldn't be so difficult but it _is_ and my already dismal posting schedule is looking to be rather thin with how time consuming all of my studio classes are so expect me to never return.
> 
> But y'all aren't here to read my shitty rambling, y'all are here to read my shitty writing. That's right, it's not beta'd so y'all have f u n!

The hallway was dark, the door to the dining room cracked slightly, letting only the tiniest sliver of light peak through. Harry could hear the tv, a static drone under the sound of his relatives talking. He knew he wasn’t supposed to go into the dining room while they were eating, but his feet continued to move him forward no matter how much he tried to stop himself and, without his permission, his hands pushed open the door.

The droning of the tv was louder now, the only source of light. At the table, Harry could make out the silhouettes of his relatives, all silent now as they stared blankly ahead, still as statues. Slowly, he moved to the head of the table, where another figure he hadn’t noticed was sitting, looking at him as if they had been waiting for him. They crooked a finger and - spellbound - Harry followed its tug, sitting upon their lap. They relaxed as he settled, leaning back into the dining chair while a hand hooked around his hip to secure him, head lifted to look out amongst the subdued table.

“This is our right,” the person spoke, voice a deep timbre that wound itself around Harry and wrapped him in its warmth.

Harry swallowed, looking at his relatives before he turned his head to look up towards the person. Their face was hidden, covered in shadow. “I don’t understand,” he whispered.

The person looked down at him, their face still cast in shadow. “This is our right.” They repeated.

Fingers made their way into his hair, a warm stickiness clinging to the strands with each pass of the hand. Their other hand found his own, covered with warm sticky fluid that squished between their palms as their fingers threaded together and Harry gasped as the feeling of a wet warmth soaked into his sleeved. 

Warm breath on his ear made him flinch as they leaned down, purring to him. “This is _your_ right.”

There was a sickening thud that followed the statement, reverberating through the room. Apprehensive, Harry turned his head. In front of them, in the light of the crackling tv, were the mangled bodies of his aunt, uncle, and cousin. Harry gagged, squirming to get out of the person’s grip, but they only held tighter.

“My Harry,” they breathed, hand still petting his hair, matting it with what Harry could only assume was blood. “So innocent and sweet. So special.”

Harry jerked as a kiss was placed at his temple, still struggling in their hold. They merely chuckled.

“Oh Harry,” They cooed, forcing his head up to look at them. Blood dripped from their face, and Harry stilled, horrified as the ruby liquid began to ooze towards his own, covering his eyes, clogging his nose, and choking his breath as they nuzzled into his face. “Harry.”

“Harry!”

“Harry, wake up!”

Harry gasped, bolting up from the warmth of his blankets, before gagging. A hand came down on his back, thumping hard as Harry choked for air. When he was finally able to breath again, he was laid gently back into the bed. 

Harry blinked blearily. The room was dark, and Harry feared his dream had not been a dream at all until a soft ball of light floated up from the tip of a wand, illuminating the room and the man leaning over him. “Mr. Snape?”

“Are you awake now, Mr. Potter?” The weary potions master asked, rubbing at his temples.

Harry swallowed, turning his eyes to the ceiling. “I don’t know. Am I awake? Am I dreaming? I can’t tell.” Tears slid from his eyes, trailing into his hair. “It was so real, like I was right there and if I believed hard enough, it would become reality.”

Severus gave a sigh. “You have gone through a traumatic experience, living with your relatives. It is bound to leave you with a few scars.”

“I don’t feel scarred,” Harry whispered.

“Then how do you feel?”

Harry looked over to the potions master, his eyes so blank that Severus had to force himself from recoiling away from them.

_“This is our right. This is your right.”_

“Normal,” Harry swallowed, blinking before looking away. “I feel normal.”

Severus stared at the child warily, unconvinced, but let the conversation drop as he stood, smoothing out his sleep robes. “Well, it is too late to go back to sleep for either of us. Get dressed and meet me in the dining room. We’ll have breakfast, and then there is something I wish to discuss with you.”

Harry gave a nod, but other than that he ignored to potions master, who left soon after. Harry didn’t even bother rising until the the smell of savory bacon and eggs invading his nostrils and a soft hissing invaded his ears.

 _: The one that smells of herbs and dampness has sent me to threaten that he will douse you in water should you not remove yourself from your nest. :_ Anumati informed him, slithering up onto the bed.

 _: Mati, :_ Harry greeted, reaching out a hand to the opalescent snake who quickly coiled up his arm.

Anumati flicked her tongue out onto his cheek comfortingly. _: You reek of fear, hatchling. :_ She informed him.

 _: Sorry, :_ Harry apologized blankly. _: Does it smell bad? :_

 _: Not particularly, :_ she sighed, settling on his shoulders as he sat up. _: It was merely an observation. Go find the dark one before he comes and drowns you. :_

Harry highly doubted that Mr. Snape would really pour water over him, but he didn’t want to be rude to the man who had offered him a place to stay while also putting up with Harry’s abnormalness. Which Harry still couldn’t believe. Mr. Snape really was such a nice person.

Quietly, Harry pulled on the robes Mr. Snape had shrunk for him. They had been really big and Harry was pretty sure he was never going to fit in them regardless of what Mr. Snape had said, but then the man had waved his wand and they had fit! Not perfectly, since they had originally been made for an adult, but more than Dudley’s ever had. Harry liked how they weren’t some awful colour or stained terribly either, and that the material was thick enough that it wouldn’t rip if it was grabbed.

Following his nose, Harry made his way down the hall into a small dining room where Mr. Snape was already sitting, reading a newspaper and sipping from a coffee cup. Harry paused in the doorway, remembering standing in a different dining room. One that was covered in blood and littered with body parts. Harry felt his breath catch as the chair at the head of the table was suddenly occupied by the blank figure from his dreams, shrouded in darkness and death and turned towards him.

“Harry,” they cooed, reaching out a hand towards him, beckoning him closer. “Harry. Harry.”

“Mr. Potter,” Harry blinked, breath caught in his throat as the potions master’s dining room came back into focus. He looked over to the older man, who’s face had a grim expression. “Come sit down and eat.”

“Y-yes, sir,” He squeaked, scrambling over to the chair where the placement was set. As soon as he’d made himself comfortable, two eggs, a triangle of toast, and three strips of bacon appeared on his plate, shocking the young boy. He glanced up at the man across from him, hesitant.

Said man didn’t look up, or even prod Harry for an answer. He merely turned a page in the newspaper - a magical newspaper! Harry stared at the moving pictures in rapture - and carried on as if nothing had happened. “Take those potions after you’re done eating.”

Harry blinked, glancing down in surprise when he found two small glass phials that hadn’t been there before. He glanced back up, but after a moment of Snape saying nothing else he complied, digging his fork into his food with careful movements, eyes flicking up every so often, waiting for the potion’s master to demand answers. After he’d eaten an egg, two strips of bacon and then taken a bite of the toast to wash away the taste of the potions, he stopped.

“Finished?” Severus asked.

“Umm..” Harry swallowed. “N-no. I can finish it. I’ll finish it.”

“It’s alright to not finish your food,” Severus assured, flicking his wand to banish Harry’s placement away to the kitchen. “You’re body is still trying to adjust to your new surroundings and your magic. I would prefer you eat some and not finish than eat all of it and become sick later or eat nothing at all. If you become hungry later, let me know.”

“... Okay,” Harry agreed, though with some skepticality.

If Snape noticed, he said nothing. Instead, he folded his newspaper and leaned back in his chair to address the young boy. “As I mentioned earlier this morning, I have something I want to discuss with you.”

Harry, who had been staring at where his dishware had disappeared, looked up inquisitively at the potions master. “Yes?”

“How would you feel if we were to become… _family_ ,” Severus said the word family like he was talking about the dirt Aunt Petunia always complained Harry tracked in with his very presence.

“Like you want to adopt me?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised in incredulity.

“In a sense,” Snape grimaced, looking as if saying the words made him physically ill. “What we are going to do is called blood adoption. It’s a very controversial and looked down upon practice because it takes the blood of the donee and replaces it with the blood of the donors. Many are against it because of the implications that a regular adoption is inadequate because of the adoptee’s blood status. The only people to really use the practice today are purebloods and people in hiding.”

“And I’m the former,” Harry guessed.

“An astute observation,” The potions master drawled, waiting to see how the young child would take it.

“Are we using your blood?” Harry asked, eyes filled with a curious spark.

If at all possible, and it was, Snape’s face grew more pained. “If we had no other option I would say yes. As it stands, the answer is no. It would look rather suspicious for me to just suddenly have an eight year old son that no one has ever met before. Instead, we’ll be using blood from a rather distant relation of mine and you will instead become my eight year old cousin that no one’s ever met.”

“Hey, wait a minute, I’m almost ten!” Harry protested, his excited demeanor dissipating almost instantly.

“As of this moment, you’re eight, soon to be nine.”

“And why’s that?” the young brunette pouted, crossing his arms.

“Do you wish to live in another muggle home?” Severus inquired. Harry quickly shook his head, expression terrified. “I did not think so. There are many who want for you to live away from the magical world. If you wish to remain invisible to them, then you must carefully craft the cloak from which you will hide behind. From now on, your birthday is a year and one day later and your name is Hadrian Prince, the illegitimate son of Archimedes Prince and Helena Laroux.”

“I guess I can remember that. It’s almost like who I am now,” Harry murmured, subdued.

“The key to a flawless lie is to throw in bits of the truth,” Snape advised.

“What does illegimate mean?” Harry asked.

“Illegitimate.”

“Yeah, that.”

“It means you were born out of wedlock.”

Harry furrowed his brows. “Wed-what?”

The potion’s master sighed. “It means you were born to people who weren’t married.”

“What!?” Harry gasped, shooting out of his chair. “I can’t be one of those!”

Severus paused, staring over his shoulder at the indignant expression on Harry’s face. “And why not?”

“W-well, because,” Harry flushed under the potions master’s stare. “I m-mean, Aunt Petunia used to talk about illegimate,” Harry frowned, “ill-e-gi-ti-mate kids before. She said they were one of the worst kind of unnatural things! I don’t want to be one of those!”

Severus turned, eyebrow raised. Harry flushed harder, fiddling with a button on his robes and the potions master sighed.

“Harry, there is no normal in this world.” He murmured, looking at the boy’s dubious expression. “There is merely people who are different. A muggle is different from a wizard because they cannot use magic. A child and an adult are different because of their bodies and minds. An illegitimate child is different from a legitimate child because one was born with married parents and the other wasn’t, but they are both still children, are they not?”

Harry frowned, eyebrows drawn together and eyes downcast, but nodded.

Severus sighed again, moving to kneel in front of the boy. He put a hand on Harry’s vacant shoulder sympathetically. “It is just how the world is. There is nothing wrong with being different.”

Harry stared at the potions master for a moment before nodding his head once more.

Severus was not convinced that the child understood or even agreed with him, but he let it go. One did not just change nine years of oppressed thinking in a day. Sighing, Severus gave a wave of his wand, numbers appearing in front of them before dissipating. “We’re still on time. Come.”

The potion’s master stood, tucking his wand away before striding towards different doorway from the one Harry had come through, Harry hastily following after him. They stopped in the front entry, Severus donning a cloak before placing a similar yet smaller one over Harry’s shoulders, kneeling to adjust the hood and clasps. Harry glanced at the door, his apprehensive expression noticeable even under the large hood of the cloak.

“We’re leaving?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Severus paused in his actions, looking up at the frightened child. “Would you like to stay here?”

Harry bit his lip. Yes, he’d very much like to stay there. To stay in the walls he’d quickly associated with safe, and hide away from the things he didn’t understand. From the things he’d done and could do again. From the people he could hurt and could hurt him.

Under his hood, Anumati gave an encouraging hiss. _: Life does not go away just because you are safely curled away in your nest. One should only hide if they are ambushing prey, ready to strike. :_ At that, the white snake reared up, fangs bared like she was about to strike.

Harry sighed, biting his lip before reaching up to pat her head, giving in to her mothering tone. “No, I’m okay, Mr. Snape.”

Severus stared at Harry, taking in his subdued expression before he nodded and finished adjusting the cloak on the boy’s shoulder’s. “We will be meeting with a friend of mine. She knows of your… situation,” Harry blinked, and Severus made to reassure him. “She has graciously offered to help us with your adoption. I understand if you have any fears, but remember to be courteous to her. She did not need to lend us her aid.”

Harry nodded but said nothing, trusting in this man he had known for less than a day to keep him safe. Severus almost wished he didn’t, his guilt over being the cause of the boy’s terrible life rearing its ugly head. Though, perhaps this was his opportunity to make the child’s life more than what his own had been.

“Take my hand,” Severus instructed, holding his out, palm up.

Harry eyed it like it was a poisonous snake that might bite him but eventually placed his hand in the potions master’s. Then they were gone with a soft crack.

When they reappeared, Harry felt as thought he was going to be physically ill. He was going to be sick. He was going to throw up and he hated the man name Severus Snape because it was all his fault.

“It’s okay,” the potions master had said. “Most become sick the first time they apparate.”

“If I had known, I wouldn’t have eaten this morning,” Harry muttered, a pained hiccough making its way up his throat as he grabbed his stomach.

“Then perhaps it is a good thing I did not mention it before hand,” There was little sympathy in the potions master’s tone, but he still put a comforting hand on the boy’s back. “We can rest if you need.”

“No,” Harry shook his head stubbornly, another hiccough escaping him. “I’m fine.”

Severus took in the practically shivering form of the boy and clicked his tongue, considering his options before bending to scoop him up. Harry let out a surprised yelp as he was lifted, hands scrambling to clench at the potions master’s clothes. 

“It is perfectly fine to ask for help if you need it,” Severus murmured, adjusting to get a better grip on the dreadfully featherlight body. “You will not be pampered while you live with me, but I will never turn you away if you truly need help.”

Harry had never been carried before. Aunt Petunia could hardly carry Dudley what with how much he squirmed and with how big he was compared to her, but even if she could have held both him and Dudley, Harry had a feeling she would have denied him. So, even though Harry could feel his face heat up in an embarrassed flush, he clutched a little tighter at the man and nodded.

They were quiet while Severus walked, and Harry took it as an opportunity to stare at his new surroundings. All around them were shops in varying shapes, sizes, and colours. Despite the early morning hour, there were many stores already open, their customers quickly and silently purchasing their needed supplies before fleeing back into the shadows, their heads down and hidden from all. It made Harry tighten his grip on the potions master just a little tighter.

“Severus, there you are,” an melodical voice called, interrupting Harry’s appraisal of the alley. He turned in the potions master’s grip to find the source. A few steps away was a very beautiful lady. Harry stared in awe as they came to a stop in front of her, taking in her quicksilver eyes and platinum hair. She looked away from the man and towards Harry, her ruby lips pulled up in a gentle smile. “And you must be young Harry.”

“Narcissa,” Severus greeted, though his tone was rather strained. “This is Hadrian. Hadrian, this is Lady Narcissa Malfoy.”

“Of course, forgive me for assuming. It’s nice to meet you Hadrian,” Narcissa covered her slip up easily, tone still genial and her lips still curved in a smile, though it was amused now, like she found Severus’s paranoia entertaining. Harry found that he quite liked her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he replied, giving his own, if not slightly shy, smile.

Narcisssa seemed to soften at his response, her teeth peeking out from behind ruby lips as her smile widened just a fraction.

“Were you able to acquire everything you needed?” Severus asked, dissolving Harry and Narcissa’s tentative moment.

Narcissa blinked, raising an eyebrow at Severus’s inquiry. “Just who do you believe me to be?” She teased, pulling out two vials of a viscous, red-brown liquid before quickly pocketing them again. “Rangok has agreed to perform the adoption.”

“Thank you, Narcissa,” Severus whispered.

“You can thank me by coming over for dinner every once in a while,” Narcissa smirked. “Draco has been demanding to see his favorite uncle.”

“Perhaps once everything has been settled, Hadrian and I can attend a dinner,” Severus offered, making his way up the steps of a very crooked building, barely giving Harry enough time to read the engraved words above the entrance:

_“Enter, stranger, but take heed_  
Of what awaits the sin of greed  
For those who take, but do not earn  
Must pay most dearly in their turn  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there.” 

Harry blinked thoughtfully, his curiosity peeking at the notion of something lurking in the bowels of the building they were quickly making their way through.

“Mr. Snape,” Harry called, gaining the man’s attention. “Where are we?”

“We are in Gringotts, the wizarding bank,” Severus informed him, slightly adjusting his grip on the boy so he could get a better view of the area around them.

“Okay,” Harry drawled before he leaned in conspiratorially, “what are all the little men?” Though, from the corner of his eye, Harry could tell his words hadn’t been veiled to all as he could see Narcissa fighting to hide a smile.

“They’re goblins, Hadrian,” she answered, voice discrete but understandable from where she walked beside them. “Not the most sociable of creatures, but there’s no one better versed in the subject of monetary value than them. That, and there is most probably nowhere safer for your possessions than in Gringotts.”

Harry hummed, watching with interest as the few goblins in attendance went about their business, ignoring their small group in favor of completing their tasks.

They stopped at a lone desk, the goblin sitting behind it hardly looking up as he addressed them. “Name and purpose.”

“Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape here for an appointment with the Head of Domestic Affairs,” Narcissa answered simply, drawing the goblin’s attention away from his papers.

“Lady Malfoy,” he greeted, respectfully inclining his head. “Rangok is waiting for you. If you would follow me, please.”

Narcissa gave a curt nod in answer, the trio following after the stout creature. They weaved through many different hallways and corridors before stopping before a rather plain door with no plaque or sign as to indicate where it led. Despite this, the goblin made a sharp bow, gesturing to the door before disappearing back through the long winding corridors.

Narcissa knocked politely, opening the door when a gruff “come in,” muffled its way through the heavy wood door.

“Good morning, Rangok,” she greeted, taking a seat before it was offered to her, Severus doing the same but with Harry seated firmly on his thighs. The goblin had yet to look up, writing with what looked to be a beautiful black feather, similarly ignoring them like the one they had spoken to at the teller station had done. Harry thought the action to be rather rude. 

As discreetly as he could, though not quite enough from Narcissa’s amused smile as he eyed her, Harry cast a quick glance at his companions, but neither Narcissa or Severus seemed offended like Harry had no doubt his uncle would have been: purple in the face and neck bunching in anticipation of a shout. Instead, both remained impassive to the dismissive gesture, so Harry worked to keep his expression as equally neutral and composed: unbothered.

Finally, the goblin named Rangok looked up, setting down a feather he’d been writing with - Harry would learn that it was called a quill - and addressing the Lady of their group. “A very early morning, indeed, Lady Malfoy.” He stated, sounding cross but refraining from outright stating it.

“And I appreciate the swift appointment,” she replied, deftly sliding a black leather pouch out of a pocket and onto the desk, its contents indiscernible. “Especially on such short notice.”

Rangok’s willowy fingers ghosted over the pouch, not making full contact but he looked appeased nonetheless. “It is always a pleasure for Grintgotts to do business with the noble house of Malfoy.” He said, giving her a deferential nod before turning his attention to Harry. “ Mr. Potter, I presume?”

Harry gave a small nod, “yes, sir.”

“Your hand then, Mr. Potter,” Rangok motioned and, with an asking glance towards the potions master, Harry stood and offered the goblin his hand. Rangok took it a firm grip in one hand while his other deftly poked a crystal clear needle into the pad of Harry’s forefinger, drawing a startled gasp from the child. A drop of blood was collected on the end of the needle before Rangok let go of Harry’s wrist, the young brunette stealing his hand back to clutch to his chest. The goblin merely ignored him, letting the bead of crimson fall onto a blank sheet of parchment before setting it away. After a moment, the blood began to absorb and then spread across the paper, creating veins that then formed into ruby branches, climbing up the parchment from where Harry’s blood had been spilt like growing vines, encircling names that bloomed like gore stained flowers. When it finally stopped, the paper was awash in red with Harry’s name at the very bottom of the intricate designs.

“What _is_ that?” Harry asked, awed.

“It’s your family tree, Hadrian,” Narcissa answered, looking up at Rangok before taking the parchment in hand. 

“What’s a family tree?” Harry edge closer to where she sat, glancing curiously at the paper, but keeping a well mannered distance lest the seemingly gentle Lady grow tired of his hovering and lash out with a well manicured hand.

Narcissa, ever watchful, noticed the distance Harry put between them. It made her protectiveness grow, her desire to keep the child safe leading her to gently tug him onto her lap, astounded in the difference in size between her Draco and Harry despite their same age as the boy hesitantly settled on her lap.

“A family tree,” She began, “is a depiction of the relationships between people in several generations of a family. You are at the bottom, because you are the sole survivor of your lineage. The names above you are your parents, and above them are your father’s parents.”

“Not my mother’s?” Harry inquired, glancing up at the blonde witch.

“No…” Narcissa said, slowly, as if it pained her to speak of it. Her expression changing just an nth towards distaste, but long enough for Harry, ever observant, to notice.

“You don’t like my mother,” Harry assessed, unaware of how the potions master tensed behind him.

“It’s not your mother personally, Hadrian,” she placated, briefly glancing over his shoulder to the dark man sitting behind him. “It is a rather delicate matter to be discussed at a later time.”

Harry stared at her a moment longer before he conceded and turned back to the parchment in her hand. “So who are they?” He asked, pointing at his father’s parents’ names.

“Those are your grandparents. Look, your grandmother was a Black,” Narcissa pointed out. “I also, am a Black. That means you and I are cousins.” Harry’s head whipped around, staring in almost abject horror at Narcissa who frowned minutely. “What’s wrong?”

It was the sound of Severus’s voice, breaking through the tense atmosphere that drew Harry back from his terror. “She is not the same, Hadrian. She knows what you are and accepts it. She’s not like them.”

Harry glanced at Severus before looking back to Narcissa, nodding slightly. “Sorry.” He whispered, looking back down at the parchment in her hands.

“Oh, dear child,” She soothed, stroking a hand through his hair,cradling his head to her chest. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Harry found himself hoping she was right.

A cough gently cut into the somber mood, drawing three pairs of eyes back to the goblin sitting behind the desk. “As I have ascertained that Mr. Potter is who he says, shall we carry on with the adoption?”

“Yes, that would be preferable,” Severus acceded, taking over and letting the two cousins have a moment to gather themselves.

“You have the donor blood?” Rangok inquired.

“Yes,” Narcissa dug into her robe, carefully removing the two vials of blood from earlier before handing them to Rangok.

Rangok took them into his spindly hands, carefully uncorking them and pouring them into a large, dark green and red marbled stone bowl that Harry hadn’t noticed him pull out. Once they were empty, the goblin motioned to Narcissa, taking the parchment with Harry’s family tree from her, folding it neatly before placing it into the stone bowl where it, much to Harry’s surprise, burst into flames. When the flames subsided, the goblin motioned for Harry who quickly slid out of Narcissa’s lap. Rangok grabbed for his hand, producing another crystal needle. Harry hissed as the goblin dragged the needle across his hand, making a shallow cut over his palm before guiding it to the bowl.

“If it is still your desire to forsake your blood and join one anew, place your hand into the mixture and keep it submerged until the bowl is empty.” The goblin intoned, looking as bored as he sounded.

Harry barely glanced at the bowl, looking back to Severus with an almost shy stare before he gave a small smile, dunking his hand into the mixture of congealing blood and ash. It was warm, most likely from its temporary home in Narcissa’s robes, and wet but in a sticky kind of way, sliding between his fingers and under his nails like scabs that hadn’t been left to properly set. It stung the gash Rangok had sliced from the edge of his thumb to the heel of his palm and, after a minute or two, heat soothed the burn of his cut palm, the mixture beginning to dissipate into steam and hiss like a pot on the stove.

When it was gone, Harry pulled his hand from the bowl, turning his hand over curiously. Much to his surprise, the cut had closed, only a faint scar left where it had been before, a dark line across his rather pale skin. When he turned back to face his companions Narcissa smiled and held out a mirror for him, which he took, gasping as he met his reflection.

Gone was Harry Potter, and in his place was the newly orphaned, young Lord Hadrian Prince. His pale, milky complexion looked like it had never seen the light compared to Harry’s sun kissed - and in some cases burned - skin. His hair was still a dark umber but it laid mostly flat, buoyed only by soft waves and looked tasteful in the way it was grown out, unlike Harry’s own rat nest. Thin, split lips were now fuller - to a degree - and softened over. Where Harry’d had a rounded face and a button nose, Hadrian had sharp cheeks and an elegant nose. The only thing that stayed somewhat similar, were his eyes. They were duller now, more of a pale green with flecks of soft browns thrown in: like raw green amethyst or an unrefined prehnite. It was an ode to his mother that Hadrian was certain Mr. Snape had a hand in.

As he handed the Mirror back to Narcissa, Rangok cleared his throat, drawing their attention back. “I do hope that the Lady Malfoy and the new young Lord Prince do not forget the generosity of Gringotts and the goblins for keeping this exchange quiet.” He pressed, fingers steepled and expression unconcerned.

“Of course, Rangok,” Narcissa smiled, razor thin as she handed over another pouch, cloth this time and clinking tellingly. “Perhaps wait to call in our young Lord’s favor, lest you lead trouble to your doors.”

“Indeed,” the goblin inclined his head in a half deferential bow before reaching under his desk to pull out a small gold key and a silver ring. “The key for Mr. Prince’s new vault. As the late Lord Prince had no will instated were he to have a surrogate heir, the will currently held in Gringotts custody is hereby void and all his earthly possessions and assets now belong to the young Lord.” Rangok slid the key forward and Hadrian hesitantly took it, looking it over before handing it over to a rather stoic Severus. “And this is the Prince family heir ring,” the goblin stated, holding up the silver ring. He gently handed it over to Hadrian, who stared in awe at the beautifully crafted piece of jewelry.

The ring itself was a thin silver band, expanding towards the top into a well polished, smoky purple gem. Carved into the tapered metal around the gem were two winged foxes on either side, framing the gem with their wings. Inscribed into the gem was a flowing script that read _“Ex Scientia Ultio”._

Severus, noticing Hadrian’s puzzled expression, leaned down. “Ex scientia ultio,” He intoned, making the younger Prince startle. “It translates into English as _‘from knowledge comes vengeance’_ , the Latin creed and promise of the Prince family.”

“What does it mean?” Hadrain inquired, looking up at the potions master.

The corners of Severus’s mouth lifted slightly, pleased. “Those who have knowledge and are learnt, have access to the downfall of their enemies. Brute strength may have its advantages, but those who are quick witted and skilled academically will sooner or later overtake the barbaric. It is a warning for all others to tread lightly when dealing with a Prince.”

Hadrian looked thoughtful as he slipped the ring onto his left pinky, eye widening when the oversized ring contracted to snugly grip his finger. He admired it shamelessly as the adults carried on.

“Is that it then, Rangok?” Narcissa asked.

“Not quite,” he returned. “There is the matter of paperwork and standard certificates that must be filed for the new young Lord Prince and as he is still, in all technicality, the last Potter heir, he has access - though not till of age - to the Potter and Prince vaults respectively as well as a trust vault set up by the late Lord and Lady Potter. If accessing the Potter trust vault need only present the Potter key and the Prince ring upon inquiry for his access.”

Narcissa shared a look with Severus before answering. “That won’t be necessary. Hadrian needs no ties to his old life.”

“It is merely standard procedure, Lady Malfoy. No visit to the vault is required by Mr. Prince. I shall be sending you the documents needed to secure his new existence at the earliest convenience. If that is all?”

“It is. Come, Hadrian, we should be heading out to collect your new things,” Narcissa smiled, standing from her chair.

“May your enemies quake at your feet, Lady Malfoy.”

“And may your gold ever flow, Rangok,” Narcissa replied, giving a short nod before turning for the door.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

“What did you mean by ‘my new things’?” Hadrian asked as they left the bank, letting Narcissa lead him around by their conjoined hands.

“Well you can hardly spend the rest of your life in Severus’s hand-me-downs,” Narcissa explained, giving the potions master a pointed look. “Severus himself should hardly be wearing those scraps anymore.”

“My clothes are perfectly fine, Narcissa,” Severus bit back, a fond light in his eyes. “If you bought me anything more expensive than these, I’d only ruin them.”

Narcissa let the subject drop easily with merely a hum.

“We’re going shopping?” Hadrian asked, surprise easily detected.

“Is that okay?” Narcissa inquired, looking down at the small child.

“I’ve never been shopping before,” Hadrian admitted, subdued. “Aunt Petunia didn’t like taking me out to get groceries incase someone thought I was her son and I only ever got Dudley’s hand-me-downs.”

“Well,” Narcissa pursed her lips, already making plans to spoil the somber child rotten. “Let’s get you fitted for some new robes and commodities then we can go wherever else you’d like to after that, okay?”

Hadrian’s eyes lit up. “Can we get ice cream and look at the animals in the petshop?”

“Of course, darling. Clothes first, though,” Narcissa conceded, opening the door to a well lit store, the bell above the frame ringing. A tall and spindle thin woman came out from a back room at the chime of the bell, her smile making her already thin lips practically disappear. 

“Narcissa,” she greeted. “Back again so soon?”

“Hello, Camilla,” Narcissa matched, polite smile barely tugging her mouth upwards. “I’m here to get this young man some new robes.”

Hadrian gave a small bow to the seamstress at Narcissa’s instruction when she glanced to his hiding place behind Narcissa’s skirt. She frowned, looking back to Narcissa. “Another son?”

If possible, Hadrian shrank even further into Narcissa’s robes. The blonde gave his hand a squeeze before answering. “No, a cousin of mine. You heard the news of Archimedes recent death didn’t you?”

“Of course,” the tall woman seemed to rear up, her actions making it perfectly clear she knew absolutely nothing about it. “What of his mother?”

“A muggleborn fling of Archimedes’s. She went to a muggle hospital and died shortly after Hadrian’s birth.” Narcissa supplied easily, the disdain in her voice palpable. “Since Severus and I are his closest relatives, we have been handling the paperwork and housing young Hadrian. We decided to get out for a bit today and shop.”

The woman was silent for a moment, her gaze sharp as she studied their little trio. “Well,” she finally said, smile back again. “Twilfitt and Tatting’s is always open to you and yours, Lady Malfoy. Just have him step up on one of the platforms and undress I’ll be there shortly.”

They did as instructed, Narcissa helping the small boy up onto the dias as a measuring tape flew up from the spot it had been occupying on the counter to wrap itself around Hadrian while a quill and parchment floated next to it, taking down the measurements efficiently. When the measurer was done, the spindly woman came back, plucking it from the air and surveyed the contents before waving her wand in a bowing arc. Immediately, several bolts of fabric glided over to where Hadrian stood, sections separating themselves from the bolt to wrap around his body snugly, but comfortably. 

For the most part, Narcissa let Hadrian chose the fabrics and colours he wanted, throwing in a comment or two of her own just so he would have a “wider variety” to choose from, in her words. Hadrian thought that Narcissa might just like spoiling people by buying them things.

When the seamstress finished, Narcissa paid and had his robes sent back to Severus’s house before she linked their hands together once again and pulled him back out into the ally. By the time they were done, Hadrian had three pairs of dragon hide boots, a pair of lounge flats, multiple sleep robes, an abundance of jewelry, and a healthy fear of the word shopping when it came to Narcissa: his feet sore and his body exhausted from keeping up with the ever chipper Lady. He’d nearly refused the idea of ice cream, practically whimpering as he was forced to decide between the sweet dessert or the preservation of his feet. His sweet tooth won in the end, compelled by the promise of two scoops and that Severus would carry him the rest of the way, even if Severus had promised no such thing. Hadrian chalked it up to the fact that Narcissa had smiled like a cat, the kind that destroyed certain potions master’s projects.

But as soon as he was in the potions master’s arms, he was asleep, his body limp with fatigue from being awake since dawn and from the influence of the blood adoption still working through his system.

“Poor thing,” Narcissa cooed, tucking a strand of his wavy locks behind his ear and away from his face. “All worn out, just from a day of shopping.”

 _‘Just?’_ Severus thought, knowing better than to comment on the length Narcissa’s shopping sprees spanned, an eyebrow raised incredulously. “Yes, I imagine his body and mind have been thoroughly taxed these last few days.”

“I’m assuming that, were I to invite you to dinner tomorrow night, the answer would be a no?” Narcissa hummed, still running her hands through the young Prince’s hair.

“Indeed,” Severus agreed, shifting the child’s slight weight onto his hip as they strolled idly through Diagonal as people began to slowly vacate its street. “I plan to let him recuperate from whatever physical trauma he’s gone through for the weekend and see if any psychological ones emerge within that time.”

“Wise,” Narcissa offered. “Perhaps Wednesday, then. Lucius said he will be home early that day. He’s been complaining about how you’ve been remiss at our dinner table since becoming a teacher. Though I think teaching hardly has anything to do with your absence.”

“If you’re implying that I am avoiding your dinner table-”

“Nonsense,” Narcissa interjected. “Merely the someone who has been frequenting it, as of late.”

“I am not the only one avoiding your capricious and inconstant house guest.” Severus huffed, though his voice was rather strained.

“Well, no,” Narcissa laughed. “I suppose you’re not. I just wanted to check. I understand of course I just wish that it could be different for you and what you went through.”

“Narcissa,” the potions master murmured. “I understand what he did, why he did it, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. You need not constantly check upon my well being.”

Narcissa sighed, slipping her arm through the dour man’s free one. “I cannot help the way I fell, Severus. I worry for you. I fear that you’ll do something you’ll regret. Something that may get you killed or worse.” She glanced at the sleeping child in his arms.

A heavy silence hung over them at that, unsaid worries and fears permeating the air around them before Severus responded. “Your worries are unfounded. I have more to lose than my own life, now.”

Narcissa smiled fondly, parting from them as they came to where Severus and Hadrian had apperated into the ally. “Well, I expect your presence at our estate in the near future.”

“We shall be there, when he has settled further into his life,” Severus replied, Narcissa’s smile the last thing he saw before he disapperated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you guys rather wait for long chapters? I'm asking more out of curiosity than for actual story development because I'm actually kinda impressed I already have 21662 words within four chapters.
> 
> Anyway, see you in the next update my wise little eagles! ~💙


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are killing me, 616 kudos, 152 bookmarks and 112 comments???? I'm going to spontaneously c o m b u s t. Like how is that even possible??? For four chapters???? That aren't even consistent??????? You guys are too nice to meeeeee ;-;
> 
> And how do I reward you? With only a single, barely 7000 word chapter. Almost two months later. 
> 
> I'm soooooooo sorry I had to write this, but it's gotta be this way. I can't just skip over how living with Snape shapes Harry as a person and how he still has all his trauma to deal with! I mean I guess I could but then I'd have to come up with a new exposition and I have like 90% of that planned out so fat chance. ***runs away to hide under a rock for another month***
> 
> And I also have some Good News/Bad News. Good news is that I'm already halfway done with the next chapter and it's already 5,000 words (how do I keep doing this to myself? I've never had so many words in a chapter before and now I'm writing at least 5,000 minimum, 5 chapters straight... ;-;). Bad news is that it's finals in like... three weeks, so I am going to be buuuuuuuusy until semester break. If I have time to procrastinate on school and write this, I will, but if it comes down to the clutch, art school is going to win because mama needs her scholarship.
> 
> Alright, that's enough of my drivel, onward to the story!

Living together with Mr. Snape was different. 

For instance, Mr. Snape did not require him to be up before him. Often times, with the potions master being up all night working on his experiments, the man hadn’t even seen his bed by the time Hadrian was dressed and calling him to breakfast. For another, all the cooking and cleaning was done by Pippy. End of story. Goodbye. The end.

There had been an instance when he’d tried to rinse off his dishes after a meal and the house elf had practically burst his ear drums, screeching and wailing about how she was a useless house elf and that she might as well die if their need for her had run out. Needless to say, Mr. Snape had forbade him from cleaning ever again. With the threat of a screeching house elf keeping him from doing any of the domestic chores, Hadrian was left at a loss at what to do. 

More often than not, he slept. When he’d asked Mr. Snape why, the dour man had explained that his body was undergoing rigorous healing from the abuse he’d lived through due to the potions he took every morning. Unfortunately, that meant that his nightmares were a constant in his life. 

Sometimes they were vague: splashes of red and the sound of something thick and meaty thunking onto hard linoleum. Other times they were so vivid Hadrian feared he was still there, trapped within the walls of № 4 Privet Drive with the bodies of his relatives strewn about with the furniture. Once, he’d dreamt that he had done it all without his magic, that he’d just snapped and grabbed a knife, hacking his uncle and aunt to pieces before toying with his cousin, until Dudley screamed for mercy and forgiveness and only then did Harry finally end his life.

He’d bolted up screaming after that one, refusing to sleep. He’d been skittish and practically hysterical until Mr. Snape had scooped him into his arms and tucked him away in the potions master’s own room, staying with him in a silent vigil until he’d woken again. Ever since then, Hadrian would crawl into the potions master’s bed when he was too scared to sleep in his own. Whether or not Mr. Snape was there to begin with, if Hadrian went to sleep in his bed, Mr. Snape would be there when he woke.

Often times, Mr. Snape would ask about his dreams, telling Hadrian that it would help if he talked about them, but Hadrian wasn't convinced. He didn't need to talk about the dreams. Having such vivid dreams _couldn't_ be normal and Hadrian was determined, no matter what Mr. Snape said, to be nothing but normal. So every time Mr. Snape asked, Hadrian would clam up, refusing to look the potions master in the eye until he gave up. He felt guilty for ignoring the man who'd saved him, but his determination to be completely ordinary overruled his guilt.

And then there was that _voice_. It would find Hadrian at the oddest times and it would _whisper_ things to him. How it would be great if he tore the little house elf to pieces just so he could finally have a purpose, even if it was cleaning and cooking again. Or that one time he’d been upset because Mr. Snape hadn’t gotten any sleep and so he became rather short with Hadrian, the voice had coo about how he should punish the potions master, rip his arms off, splatter the walls with his blood, really let _loose_. The voice scared him, and no matter what he did, it never went away, so he ignored it. This went on for about five or so days. Hadrian was just getting used to the routine of sleeping, eating, ignoring the voice, sleeping some more, refusing to talk to Mr. Snape about his dreams before sleeping again when his guardian brought up the subject of Hadrian’s schooling one dinner. 

“You mean like, primary school?” Hadrian asked, mouth still full of food that spewed slightly, giving the potions master a sheepish smile at the reprimanding look he gave.

“No,” Mr. Snape said, handing the boy a napkin. “In wizarding society, most children do not go to an outside school source until they are eleven years of age.”

Hadrian scrunched his face in confusion, ignoring the disapproving look Mr. Snape gave him. Mr. Snape had a lot of rules, many of which Hadrian found ridiculous: sit properly, don’t slouch, don’t eat with your elbows on the table, don’t play with your food, don’t fidget, never wipe at your face with your hands, always wear your robes properly, do not make ‘silly’ faces for any reason, be charming but keep your expression aloof and detached of emotion, you may smile but never excitedly or mischievously, always use polite speech and correct grammar, do not run or frolic or skip, but walk regally. The list went on and on, and often, Hadrian forgot them. 

Mr. Snape had explained to him that the reason for such rules was that, while he carried the Prince name, he was considered nobility in the wizarding world. Needless to say, Hadrian was almost tempted to relinquish the ‘freedom’ of the Prince name and go back to being Harry Potter, but then he’d remember all the terrible memories attached to that name and he would grit his teeth and bear it.

“I don’t understand, Mr. Snape,” Hadrian confessed, setting down his fork and patting at his mouth with his napkin like he’d been instructed to do. “Muggles have primary schools, why don’t wizards?”

“Generally, the primary education of children is the responsibility of the family,” Mr. Snape said. “Basic mathematics, language arts, and history are handled either by a parent or a tutor. If a parents isn't available or a tutor is too costly, children will often either go uneducated. Many wizarding families deplore muggle primary schools, especially since magical children are prone to bouts of accidental magic.”

“Then how do wizarding children learn to read and write?” Hadrian asked.

“Unless they have the means through a parent or a tutor, they don’t until they reach the age of eleven,” Mr. Snape answered plainly.

“But, that’s so... so... ridiculous!” Hadrian protested, frowning unhappily. Even he knew how to read and write, even if his penmanship was dreadful. “What do they do for eleven years, just sit around at home? What about magic? Do they at least learn that?”

“Most children don’t learn magic until they are of age due to the fact that the Ministry for Magic restricts the usage of wands for any below the proper schooling age. Though,” the potions master conceded, “there are a few who receive training in magical subjects that do not require a wand such as astronomy, herbology, several theoretical and language classes, potions, and several more.”

Hadrian huffed, completely befuddled before his interest perked. “Would I be learning any of those along side the normal subjects?”

Mr. Snape hummed, looking thoughtfully at the boy. “I suppose… I shall ask Narcissa if she knows of any tutors who teach both magical and non magical subjects tomorrow when we visit for dinner.”

Hadrian gave the potions master a short nod, neither conveying a distaste for the matter or an appreciation. “Alright then, Mr. Snape.”

“Severus,” the potions master replied, explaining at the young boy’s confused expression. “You and I are supposed to be related. We are going to be living together for quite a long time and, as soon as news of an illegitimate heir to the Prince lineage gets out, heavily scrutinized. The media will question why you do not refer to me in a familial way and wonder if our relationship is one of tense silence and polite disregard.”

“So then… they’ll think we’re like how my-” Hadrian swallowed, averting his eyes. “How Harry’s relatives were to him?”

“Yes,” Severus said slowly, taking note of the way Hadrian redirected his question while resisting the sneer that wanted to break forth on his face, disgusted at the idea of being compared to the Dursley’s. “You need not call me ‘cousin’ or ‘uncle’ but you may if you wish.”

“Cousin Severus… Uncle Severus… Severus...” Hadrian tested, pursing his lips before smiling innocently. “Sev?”

Severus gave a pained wheeze. “I request you do not, shorten my name.”

Hadrian giggled, complying easily. “Okay, Severus”

Severus held in a sigh, continuing on. “We have a few lessons to go over before tomorrow regarding etiquette and proper dining.” Severus gave a wave of his wand and their food disappeared, being replaced with an overwhelmingly full set of dishware. “Let’s begin.”

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Several repeated lessons and a restless night’s sleep later and Hadrian was fighting off a growing headache that felt like forks and knifes and spoons digging into his cranium. He was certain he was going to be having nightmares about dishware and all its polite uses for the next month which, if he was being honest, would be a step up from his current nightmares. He was just finishing putting on one of the nicer robes Narcissa had bought for him - a lovely dove grey with a cinched waist and high collar, adorned in decorative black threading and gold accents - when a hiss filled his ears.

 _: Mati, :_ he greeted, bending to the floor to let her wind up his arm. _: Where have you been? :_

_: Napping, :_ she replied simply, sneaking under the collar of his robe to coil around his neck. _: The dark one is waiting for you. :_

_: Are you his personal messenger now? :_ Hadrian teased, flinching when her tongue flicked inside his ear. _: Hey! :_

_: Two can play games, hatchling, :_ She said, her voice smug.

_: Are you coming with us? :_ He asked hopefully as he smoothed out his robes, using the action to try and sooth his nerves as he slowly made his way out of his bedroom.

Hadrian had never eaten a formal dinner before. Whenever his - Harry's - relatives had had important guests over, he was often stuffed away in his room, told to pretend he didn't exist and that if he didn't behave he would be without supper for a week. Hadrian knew, logically, that Severus was nothing like Harry's relatives and that he would not, at least Hadrian hoped he wouldn't, refuse him a meal because he'd ended up using the wrong fork all throughout dinner. Still, having his friend there to safeguard him would make him more comfortable about the ordeal in the long run, but it was not to be.

_: The mice are here, :_ she stated, answering his question indirectly, almost like she was too ashamed to deny him out right.

To Hadrian, that hurt more than a direct no.

_: Fine, :_ he hissed, stopping to pull her off his neck before placing her - carefully, no matter how upset he was with her, always carefully - on the floor.

_: Do not be cross, hatchling, :_ she chided, slipping from his fingers, flicking her tongue at him as she went. _: I am not a pet to be totted around on a whim. :_

Hadrian scowled at her retreating form as she slithered away, turning with a huff and marching to the front entry where he found Severus waiting with his cloak in hand. He quickly schooled his features when he saw Severus’s disapproving look.

“You will offend our hosts if you show up with a sour expression,” the potions master admonished.

“Sorry,” Hadrian muttered, accepting the cloak and fastening it as best he could while he sulked before Severus reached down and helped him.

The potions master scrutinized him for a moment, placing a hand on his shoulder before speaking. "We can always reschedule if you are not feeling up to venturing out tonight." 

Hadrian blinked in surprise, quickly shaking his head. "No, please! I do want to go, it's so..."

"'So'?" Severus prompted, taking note of the way Hadrian nervously bit his lip. "I guarantee I will not be cross with whatever you are about to say, and if I am, I will in no way take my frustration out on you, Hadrian."

Hadrian glanced up the the potions master, fiddling with the clasp on his cloak. "It's just so _boring_ here. I'm grateful that you came and saved me from going to another bad family, but I wish I had something to do other than sleep and eat and learn manners. And you said you were going to talk to Lady Malfoy about a tutor tonight so that I can stay caught up in my studies. I'm not great at schoolwork but it's at least something other than sleeping or sitting around." The boy confessed, averting is eyes and refusing to look up from his feet. 

"Boredom is self induced," Severus said, sighing as Hadrian flinched. Before the child could brush the topic aside, he knelt in front of the boy, giving him no opportunity to look away from him. "And while that is what I believe, I am also at fault for not providing you the means to keep yourself occupied. But if you had told me sooner, I would have seen about setting you up with a task that would have held your attention."

"Oh," the boy said, pale green eyes wide and innocent.

"How articulate," Severus deadpanned, earning himself a sheepish grin. He straightened up, giving Hadrian's shoulder one last squeeze before letting go. "Now that it has been brought to my attention, I will see about finding a way to keep you entertained that isn't your lessons. Narcissa will surely have a suggestion or two." 

Hadrian whipped his head up so fast Severus feared he’d give himself whiplash, expression a mix of relief and disbelief as he stared up at the potions master who merely lifted an eyebrow in question, hand extended. Slowly, the boy smiled, before reaching out and taking his hand, steeling himself as the feeling of being sucked through a straw enveloped him. 

They landed outside a large iron gate, and beyond that a mansion, resplendent in the slowly setting sun. Severus waved his wand in a circle around his head before, still holding onto Hadrian's hand, he stepped forward and _through_ the gate. Hadrian barely had time to gasp before he was pulled along after, their pace moderate and unhurried.

He took in the large grounds surrounding the mansion, awed at the beautifully kept gardens he could see and the gleaming white peacocks - _peacocks!_ \- that strode about, their elegant heads bobbing as they strutted, watched the two outsiders walk by with beady eyes.

They stopped at a pair of ornamental front doors, Severus knocking politely twice before a house elf, much like the one at Severus’s house but with bigger eyes and floppier ears than Pippy’s, opened the door. “Can Dobby be helping you, sirs?” The house elf - Dobby Hadrian assumed - asked, eyes trained on the ground.

“We are expected,” Severus merely stated.

“Dobby!” A familiar voice called, interrupting before Severus could reply. Narcissa, looking lovely as ever strode up to the door, her smile warm and welcoming. “Oh, Severus, and young Hadrian.” She turned to the house elf -Dobby, Hadrian assumed - and her face shifted into indifference. “Dobby, go find Draco and tell him to come to the sea glass room.”

Dobby turned, eyes widening slightly before nodding his head. “Yes, Mistress. Dobby is going right away, Mistress.” He said before disappearing with a soft pop. Immediately Narcissa’s smile was back as she opened the door wider and stepped aside to let them in. “Please, do come in. Lucius is still at the Ministry, so we can catch up some in the sitting room before dinner.”

Hadrian followed behind the two adults while they talked quietly, catching snippets of there conversation that he didn’t understand, like _‘The Prophet’_ and _‘Dumbledore’_ , but he ignored that in favor of looking around in awe at his surroundings. To Hadrian, it was like being in a fairy tale: he was Cinderella, dressed up and pretty in a beautiful castle attending a ball, but the magic wouldn’t wear off because he was no longer an indentured servant slaving away for his family and he was most definitely _not_ marrying Mrs. Malfoy’s son. 

They stopped once they reached a room that was done in all shades of sea foam and cerulean, Narcissa seating herself on a comfortable looking chair and Severus on the other, leaving Hadrian to occupy the love seat. Between them was a lovely coffee table, the base a myriad of crisscrossing metal beams done in distressed silver, the table a grey stained walnut slab. On it was a tray of tea, three cups already filled and waiting with black steaming liquid.

“So, how have you been fairing Hadrian?” Narcissa asked, smiling at him as she took a cup, sipping at it daintily.

“Good,” he replied absently, still looking around the room before noticing Severus’s pained expression. Immediately, he straightened up, his expression sharpening as he turned to give Narcissa his full attention. “Well, I mean, I’ve been well. I sleep a lot, but Severus says that’s because I’m healing. How are you, Lady Malfoy?”

“Please, dear, “Please, dear, we’re family. Call me Aunt Narcissa,” she insisted, giving him a fond look. “I’ve also been well. There have been many events I’ve had to plan and Draco, ever the social butterfly, has had so many invitations to other children’s houses and birthday balls.”

Hadrian’s eyes widened at that. He hardly knew what a birthday party was like, what with being forced over to Mrs. Figg's when Dudley would have one, let alone a birthday ball. Narcissa must have noticed his stunned expression because she clicked her tongue and reached over to smooth a hand through his hair. “If Severus is amenable about it, I shall have to take you along the next time we get an invitation.”  
“Perhaps that is not such a good idea, Narcissa,” Severus interjected, his expression unreadable. Hadrian’s, however, fell and Narcissa clicked her tongue again.

“Later, Severus,” she chided. “This is not a conversation for now.”

It was then that the youngest Malfoy decided to grace them with his presence, the door to the sitting room practically banging open as he threw himself onto the potions master’s lap. “Uncle Severus!”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy!” Narcissa scolded. “We do not throw open doors and we do not fling ourselves onto people’s laps! Especially with guests here!”

“But, Mother,” the boy whined, still clinging to the potions master who had adjusted the blonde to a more comfortable position on his lap, not even fazed, like it occurred all the time. “It’s just Uncle Severus. We _know_ Uncle Severus.”

“Listen to your mother, Draco,” the potions master admonished, paying no mind to the doe eyes the boy cast his way.

The boy huffed, slipping down from the dour man’s lap when he finally took notice of Hadrian who had remained impassive throughout the whole event.

“Oh,” Draco said, straightening up as his cheeks began to pinken. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Hadrian echoed, giving the boy a polite smile. “How do you do?”

“Draco,” Narcissa called, drawing the boys’ attentions. “This is Hadrian Prince, a cousin of yours.”

“You’re a Prince? You don't really look like a Prince,” Draco stated, rather matter-of-factly. It made Hadrian want to fidget with nerves and he wished not for the first time that Anumati would would have come with them.

“Draco!” His mother exclaimed, looking more and more put out. “Where have your manners _gone_ , young man?”

“Sorry, Mother,” Draco mumbled, turning back to Hadrian with his hand out . “I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“So I’ve heard,” Hadrian teased, earning a smile from the blonde while they shook hands.

“Draco, Severus and I have a few things to discuss before your father returns. Why don’t you take Hadrian on a tour?” Narcissa suggested, though Hadrian could tell it was not negotiable. “I’ll send for you when dinner is ready.”

Draco merely nodded, taking Hadrian’s hand and practically pulling him out of the sitting room. The last thing Hadrian heard before they left was Narcissa’s disapproving sigh and Severus’s amused placation that boys will be boys.

“We can do a quick tour, if you want. Mother just said that so we would leave them alone to talk about adult things. Then after, we can head up to my room until Mother calls for us.” Draco said, not waiting for an answer as he pulled Hadrian along from room to room, declaring the room’s name, giving a historical narrative for a few, and pointing out certain artifacts that he would boast about before dragging Hadrian off to yet another room. Hadrian was immediately overwhelmed, trying to keep track of all the names Draco listed and reasons why a certain object was so special. 

It took a flight of stairs to the second floor, which they briefly swept through, and then another flight of stairs and a long walk down a hallway, Hadrian looking around as well as he could at the beautiful furniture and wallpaper and chandeliers as well as the portraits - _“They move!” “Of course they move. Now hurry up before one of them stops us and talks us to sleep.”_ \- which looked down on them with critical eyes, before they stopped at rather unassuming set of doors which Draco opened with a flourish, announcing proudly that it was his bedroom.

“Wow,” Hadrian breathed, enchanted as he took in the room around them. 

It was spacious, with four grand windows which overlooked the grounds at the perfect angle to catch the sunset. Placed perfectly center of the northern wall was a giant bed done in soft, muted blues with a sheer canopy encompassing it from seemingly out of nowhere. A vanity and a desk were pushed up in the corner opposite a small sitting area that was sat in front of an unlit fireplace, and next to it were several bookshelves. Scattered around the room were organized piles of toys and trinkets of varying shapes and sizes: stuffed toys of strange creatures that Hadrian swore were blinking their eyes, following him as he moved about the room, a chess board done in a beautiful white and black marble sitting on the desk and stacked next to it were moving - though he supposed that shouldn’t surprise him much anymore - posters of grinning men flying on brooms - brooms! Beside the desk a similar, though a tad smaller and fairly used, broom from the posters was propped up, a strange concave ball placed on the floor next to it.

“You can sit on my bed if you want,” Draco offered, looking smug as he watched Hadrian look about his room. “I have loads of games we could play or books and magazines to read. Pick whatever you want.”

Hadrian sat himself tentatively on the bed, processing Draco’s words as well as he could while taking in everything he’d seen. “What kinds of games?”

“The usual,” Draco shrugged, sitting down cross legged next to Hadrian, relaxed. “Gobstones, exploding snaps - though we technically need wands for that - wizards chess and checkers, and then I have a few decks of wizard playing cards too.”

“I… I don't know how to play any of those,” Hadrian admitted sheepishly.

“What, you’ve never played gobstones before?” Draco asked, mildly surprised. He tilted his head before he shrugged “Well, I suppose it isn’t a very dignified game, but it’s still fairly popular even amongst my friends. What about wizards chess, then? Certainly you’ve played that before.”

Hadrian shook his head, admitting softly, “I’ve never really played any chess. My relatives didn’t really let me play much.”

Draco’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Surely your father taught you to play chess, at least. It’s very popular amongst pure-bloods.”

“Oh, well I’m not a pure-blood,” Hadrian stated. “So if these are all pure-blood games then I guess I can’t play them? Is that how thst works?”

“What do you mean you’re not a pure-blood?” Draco asked, straightening, expression growing increasingly alarmed. “Your last name is Prince, and that’s a pure-blood name.”

“Yes…” Hadrian answered, wary. Had he said something wrong? “My father was a pure-blood, but my mother was a muggle-born. At least, that’s what Severus told me.” Which wasn’t a lie, both for his birth and adopted parents.

“You’re mother was a _mudblood_!?” Draco exclaimed, shooting off the bed and away from Hadrian with a look of disgust.

“A what?” Hadrian asked, a sense of worry bubbling forth. He had definitely said something wrong. What had he said wrong? What was a mudblood? Was it another term for muggle-borns?

“I’m related to a bloody half-blood! A half-blood that had a mudblood mother!” Draco continued like he hadn’t heard him, outraged.

“Why do you keep saying that? What’s a mudblood!?”

“Out! Get out of my room!” Draco yelled, pointing at the door like that would make Hadrian leave faster. “Get out, I don’t want a filthy half-blood in my room!”

“I am not filthy!” Hadrian defended, standing as well. He didn’t know what a mudblood was and Draco obviously wasn’t going to tell him, but he wasn’t going to just let the blonde shout what he assumed were insults about him and his mother at him.

“Yes you are because you’ve got dirty blood! Your father had you with a filthy mudblood, you’re dirty!” Draco screamed.

Hadrian choked, heart sinking. He could hear in the back of his head, similar words, shouted down at him from a purpled face as he was beaten and bruised.

_“Stay in your cupboard, we’ll not have you sully our guests with your dirty presence!”_

_“Filthy boy, how ungrateful can you get? You should be glad we took you in when your useless drunkard parents died in that crash!”_

_“You’re poor aunt is worked to the bone keeping you out of trouble, do as she says or it’ll be an extra beating you worthless brat!”_

_“You’re just like your parents: worthless, lazy, ungrateful! It’s a curse upon us that you didn’t die with them!”_

“Shut up, _SHUT UP!_ ” Hadrian shrieked, covering his ears as he doubled over, vision turning white around the edges. He felt dizzy and faint, like he would topple over if a breeze so much as brushed him.

A familiar presence cooed at him, wrapping his mind in a cottony haze as he felt a deep surge of power building in his stomach. The feeling tugged on his memories, the rush of power an intimate companion in his nightmares, and the _voice_ whispered to him.

_“Just let go.”_

He hadn’t heard that voice in a few days, and he’d foolishly held hope that it had moved on to find someone else who was more receptive to its suggestions but no, it was still there, curling around in his head like smoke in a burning room.

Hadrian gave a frantic whimper, shouting _no, no ,no, NO_ in his head as he began to frantically try and fight the voice that wanted to guide him. It hissed in agitated fury at being denied, battering against his insides and forcing choked gasps out of him as it bullied him into submission, sending him crashing to the floor with a wail of agony. The last thing he saw before he was overcome was the young Malfoy’s pale face drawn in fear.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

“He seems to be doing well.” Narcissa commented as she watched the two boys scamper off.

“Yes,” Severus agreed, sitting back in the blue green armchair he was occupying with a large sigh, “If you call violent nightmares every night, estrangement from everything he’s known, and a strong case of boredom ‘well’.”

“Nightmares?” She asked, tilting her head slightly. “What sort of nightmares?”

“He won’t tell me. Half of them he doesn’t even remember once he’s woken up and the other half he wakes up screaming bloody murder to, refusing to tell me anything beyond what I already know,” the potions master said.

“So you believe he dreams of the incident with his muggle relatives,” she stated.

“Yes,” Severus confirmed, a hand already reaching up to soothe his temples. “And I cannot offer him dreamless sleep potions due to his already poor physical health and growth. He will take to it like a niffler to jewels.”

Narcissa hummed thoughtfully, taking a sip of her tea. “You could try giving him some poppy seeds before bed.”

“And risk addiction, yet again,” Severus muttered, picking up his own teacup.

Narcissa merely thinned her lips in response before changing the subject. “You said he’s bored?”

“Yes, terribly,” Severus admitted, looking embarrassed. “ We had a discussion about it before apparating over. I have been meaning to find him a tutor and activities to keep him occupied. I thought you might have some suggestions?”

“But of course,” Narcissa beamed, relaxing into her wing back chair. “What subjects were you thinking of?”

“The basics for now, though he’s shown interest in magical subjects as well. I confess, I’ve contemplated bringing him with me when term starts this year but I’m concerned that I will needlessly be placing him on Albus’s radar sooner than necessary.”

“I would take him with you,” Narcissa answered honestly, looking thoughtful. “You are the only constant he’s had since his accidental magic episode. If you were to leave him, even if only for the school term, he could react negatively and recede into himself. Even if he didn’t and you left him with us, there are those who would be most interested in his sudden appearance.”

Severus grimaced, thinking about how terrible an outcome that would be. “Yes, that would be… less than satisfactory. I suppose I will have to inform the headmaster of my plus one then.”

Narcissa nodded, taking a smart sip from her cup. “As for his estrangement, he will eventually adjust. I can take him out to gatherings and outings like I mentioned earlier and he can meet the children his age or close to his age before you leave for Hogwarts. That should help with his boredom as well.”

“Narcissa, I still don’t believe that is a good idea," the potions master objected. "He’s not stable. He hasn’t fully manifested an obscurus yet, but there are times I’ll find him after a nightmare, floating in a cloud of unstable magic.”

“He’ll have to learn to control it at some point, Severus,” Narcissa argued. “If you’re to be taking him to Hogwarts, he will have to have a tight lid on his obscurus before even setting foot on the grounds or he’ll end up in the possession of either the Ministry or Dumbledore.”

Severus grimaced, but acknowledged her point. “I will have to make him aware of his situation then.”

“Children are more observant than you think, Severus. He’s more than likely already figured out at least something, whether he understands it or not,” she said, setting her cup down on the table before turning to fully face the potions master. “Now then, we were talking earlier about Dumbledore’s reaction to Harry Potter’s disappearance. Has he informed anyone of the boy’s disappearance or the state of the muggle’s house other than who he has looking for the boy? I know you said there was nothing in The Prophet and I, as well, have heard nothing from my gossip circle.”

“No,” Severus sighed. “Besides the search parties he’s been sending out, it’s very likely that he won’t tell anyone else until he absolutely must, especially in regards to the Ministry and the press. He seems to be convinced that since there is no body, the boy is alive. And while he is technically correct, I wish he would let his infallible hope dissipate so as relieve me of my constant paranoia.”

Narcissa cursed lightly under her breath, expression mildly frustrated. “There’s nothing to do for it now. We can’t very well give them a body without using traceable magical means to make it resemble Harry Potter. We’ll just have to wait until Dumbledore relinquishes his optimism or point someone in the right direction.”

“By now, the muggle residence has likely been cleaned and turned over to some other muggle family with the whole neighborhood’s memories altered,” Severus said, looking annoyed.

“So then we wait,” Narcissa conceded ruefully, eyes narrowed in frustration.

It was then that manor quaked, groaning under duress as a thundering _boom_ shook through to the foundations, toppling furniture and overturning teacups as Severus and Narcissa both shot to their feet expressions a mix of apprehension and concern as another crackling reverberation ricocheted through the halls.

“Dobby!” Narcissa called, doing her best to keep balanced through another tremor as she ran to the foyer, Severus hot on her heels. “Dobby!” The elf appeared with a pop of magic, cowering before his mistress. “Where’s Draco!?”

“Young Master is being in Young Master’s rooms with Mistress’s guest! Mistress’s guest has destroyed Young Master's room!” The elf explained, his squeaky voice frantic as another rumble traveled through the mansion.

“Go take Draco to the kitchens and keep him there until I call for you!” Narcissa commanded, turning around and grabbing hold of Severus arm before disapperating with a desperate crack. They appeared outside of Draco’s bedroom, the sounds much louder as they threw the doors open, dodging as a tendril of inky magic came crashing down with a resounding _thud_.

All around them was a turbulence of unstable, corporeal magic, wisping around in a violent hurricane of black smoke and at the center, a ghostly rendition of Hadrian. He stared at them, though it seemed like his eyes went straight through them until they drew their wands, eyes gaining focus as an inhuman shriek tore through the air, emanating from the obscurus. They dodged and shielded themselves as the obscurus lashed out, writhing and howling in anger.

Narcissa shouted in surprise as she ducked, the sound of something heavy and wooden rushed over her head before splintering apart on the wall behind her. She knew of only one spell that had the potential to subdue the obscurus, but it took time and focus, both of which she had none as she dodged and shielded attacks. When she realized that she couldn’t see where Severus was, she began to panic. If he was still fighting, then that meant Harry's obscurus was far more developed and powerful than they had hypothesized, as it was keeping up with two, well trained adults and if he was injured or dead, then the situation was looking rather bleak for her as well. Just when she was sure that Severus had indeed been injured or killed, Hadrian’s obscurus let out a ear piercing scream, the form of the boy falling to the ground, thrashing wildly as the obscurus was forced back into its host. Behind it stood Severus, eyes trained on the boy and he flailed and screeched, his lips moving in a silent chant as his wand worked to channel his will. When he was done, the obscurus was locked back in its host and Hadrian was laying prone on the floor, unconscious.

Severus panted as he waved his wand in complex movements over the child’s still form before slumping down in exhaustion, looking up at Narcissa with a raised eyebrow. She merely nodded, making her way over to the unconscious boy and Severus when a voice came from the behind her.

“Would someone like to explain to me as to why my house is a mess, my son is nowhere to be found, and there is an obscurus unconscious in my son's room?”

In the doorway was a regal man, black robes fit snug against his figure as he stood proud, his chin tilted in disdain at the wreckage around him. His long, platinum hair was tied in a sophisticated ponytail at the nape of his neck, and in his hand he held a beautiful black cane with a silver snake head handle that he used to side step rubble as he made his way into the room.

“Lucius!” Narcissa exclaimed.

“Darling,” Lucius greeted, pulling Narcissa to his side to give her a chaste kiss on the temple. “Would you please enlighten me as to where our _son_ is?”

Narcissa blinked, realization coming upon her before she swiftly called out. “Dobby, bring Draco!”

A swift _crack_ and a cry of “Mother! Father!” and the two Malfoys spun as Draco launched himself at them, bawling his eyes out as his mother reached down to pull him into her embrace. Lucius pet through his son’s hair lightly, face still impassive but relief shining in his eyes before they shifted and landed on Severus with a mix of cautious affection.

“Severus,” he addressed, nodding to his friend.

“Lucius,” Severus replied, brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face as he straightened up.

Lucius turned away from his wife and son, now that he knew they were safe, gazing around at the damage done to the room, expression impassive. “Your ward did this, then?”

Severus grimaced, looking down at the unconscious boy. “I fear I misjudged his mental stability.”

“My wife has informed me of his… particular situation,” Lucius confessed, slow and flat. 

Severus blinked in surprise before his expression became guarded. “Did she now?”

Lucius raised an eyebrow, “Do not be cross with her. It is her right as my wife to confide in me.”

“And what did she… _confide_ to you?” Severus questioned, tone taking a suspicious edge.

“That you rescued an obscurial from the abuse of muggles and that the obscurial in question is one Harry Potter, who is currently at the very top of the Dark Lord's black list,” Lucius stated easily, holding the potions master’s eye without flinching. “And is conveniently unconscious, in my home.”

“Lucius!” Narcissa called, surprised.

Severus bared his teeth, putting himself between Hadrian and the Malfoy patriarch, wand raised. “If it is your plan to take advantage of the situation, then I’m afraid you will have to go through me to do so.” They stood tense, staring each other down before a whine cut through their staring contest.

“Wait, he can’t be Harry Potter! He doesn't have a scar on his forehead!” Draco protested, ignoring his mother’s attempt to shush him. “Furthermore, he’s _dirty_ , Father! His mother was a mudblood!”

A silence fell around the occupants of the destroyed room at the declaration. 

“Draco,” Narcissa murmured, face ashen. “Did you say that to Hadrian?”

“Of course I did,” Draco informed her, nose raised imperiously in the air. “I wanted him out of my room. I didn’t want a filthy half-blood contaminating it, and look what happened!”

Severus inhaled sharply, body stiffening at the revelation. “I believe I will be taking Hadrian home.” He said sharply, bending down and gathering the limp child into his arms. Before he could disapparate, a hand caught his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I would like a word, first,” Lucius’s expression made it clear that even if it was worded as one, it was not a request. “You can lay him down in one of the guest rooms.”

“I cannot leave him to wake up alone after such an intense manifestation of his unstable magic,” Severus stated, in no mood for his friend’s interrogation.

“I can keep an eye on him,” Narcissa said, leaving Severus no option for escape. "You're exhausted, Severus. Stay for the night, then we can have breakfast together instead. The last thing you need it to splinch either yourself or Hadrian trying to apparate or floo home."

The potions master sighed, resigned, and gestured as best he could for Lucius to lead the way.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

After he’d tucked Hadrian into bed, Severus wordlessly followed Lucius into his office where the blonde sat behind an elegant desk, elbows resting on its surface and hands clasped in front of him. He stood for a moment longer, contemplating the action of sitting and if it would equate to him admitting defeat to whatever lecture Lucius was currently concocting in his mind before giving up on the notion. Lucius would likely only start when he was seated and if that was the case then they’d be in his office for the rest of the night, Lucius boring holes into the potions master’s skull and Severus stubbornly refusing to look at the blonde. As soon as he’d settled, Lucius struck, as sharp and sudden as a snake coiled in the brush waiting to ambush unsuspecting prey.

“Of all the reckless, ill-conceived, _Gryffindor_ things to do, Severus!” He started, voice never rising above a hiss while still conveying his ire at his friend. “How blind do you actually believe Albus Dumbledore is? Did you really think you could just appear with a child who looks strikingly similar to Harry Potter after only just declaring him missing? Not only that, but what are you going to do when - not if, Severus, when - the Dark Lord finds out that Harry Potter, _The Boy Who Lived_ and ‘vanquisher’ of the Dark Lord, is under your guardianship? He’ll be livid! Incensed!”

“He is already incensed,” Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Ever since his return he has demonstrated his disappointment in my performance before his demise. This will merely be another transgression that I have committed against him.”

“Do you truly hold so little value for your life?” Lucius asked, face aghast. Severus remained quiet, refusing to look into his friend’s eyes, letting a tense atmosphere fall upon the room as Lucius inhaled sharply. “Are you trying to goad his ire? Are you parading around that child merely on a whim to join that pathetic woman in death?”

“Don’t call her that!” Severus barked, expression murderous as he finally met the Malfoy patriarch’s eyes.

“Shall I call you that, instead? Because that is how you are acting Severus: _pathetic_ ,” Lucius sneered. “Sniveling over her death and now sheltering her son. Risking your life for the memory of a girl who wouldn’t even let you explain yourself, leaving the minute it became opportune.”

“You have no right to criticize my actions towards her,” Severus growled. “The very minute the Dark Lord fell, you turned yourself in, claiming Imperius and publicly scorning and forsaking the Olde Ways. I may be pathetic, but I am at least _loyal_.”

“I did what I _had_ to,” Lucius deflected, raising his chin. “For the sake of my family and for the preservation of His noble work. If that means turning myself in and becoming a sheep to blend in amongst the flock then I shall do everything in my power to play my part to the utmost.”

“Then can you blame me if I did the same?” The potions master asked, expression stony. “Can you truly condemn me for protecting the child of the woman I love? A child who knows nothing his parents, nothing of the wizarding world, and asked for nothing other than to be loved only to be left under the mercy of magic hating muggles. Who, under their hatred and cruelty, was forced into this uncontrollable state where he has no dictation over his own magic, forced to suffer to the whims of his emotions. He fears everyday he wakes and ever night he sleeps that he will find me dead because he cannot control what his magic does under his emotions. Surely not even you, Lucius, would wish such a fate on your worst enemies.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” Severus stated, standing, concealing just how bone weary the conversation and the containment of his charge’s obscurial manifestation moments prior had made him. Just as he laid a hand on the door handle, Lucius called for him again.

“Severus,” the blonde started, drawing out the name like he was uncertain of what he wanted to say. “I... do not wish to lose your friendship. I will keep your secret and aide you in hiding the boy, but please, be cautious.”

The potions master hesitated, only giving a slight nod in acknowledgement before he exited the study, leaving for his personal rooms as he contemplated Lucius’s words and whether or not they rang with truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am so mean to my baby :/  
> But don't worry, I'm about to get even meaner >:)
> 
> Also, I've put it in the tags, but I do NOT have an update schedule so if you guys want to know when a new chapter gets uploaded, tap that subscribe button. I feel bad because you guys definitely deserve a more consistent schedule but I know I won't be able to follow through on it. So please, if you like this story, subscribe!!
> 
> See you in the next update my adventurous little thunderbirds ~💙


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SCREAMING INTO THE VOID* I'VE HAD TO ADD ANOTHER CHAPTER BECAUSE THIS ONE WAS GETTING TOO LONG I'M GONNA DIE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH
> 
> I really just want to get Harry to Hogwarts. I have so many ideas I want to do but Harry and Draco keep pulling me in the other direction like the little brats they are. I never used to understand what authors meant when the characters literally wrote themselves and did what they wanted to do. Now I do. And while it's awesome and cool and amazing it sucks because I want to write what I want but they want me to write what they want. I knew this story was going to be a slow burn, like 45+ chapters slow burn, but they're _reeeallIy_ making it slow. I can promise that Harry will get to Hogwarts in the next 2-3 chapters. I can't take anymore. I'll die if this continues any longer.
> 
> Anyway, that's enough of my bitching. Enjoy!

Hadrian was certain he was dreaming. He had to be, because no one in his waking life had ever combed through his hair with such gentleness. His aunt - Harry’s aunt - would only ever touch his hair to create a mockery of a haircut. And Vernon… Hadrian trembled just thinking about the purple faced fury that would elicit Vernon gripping his hair, yanking it to direct him in the direction he wanted. He could feel the ghost throbbing of his hair being pulled too hard… actually, the throbbing was getting worse as he left the unconscious bliss of sleep, pounding into his head and pulling a pained hiss from his lips. The hand in his hair paused, and then seemed to double its efforts at his pained exhale, another coming to rest on his face, thumb running soothingly over his cheek as tremors he hadn’t even been aware of began to lessen. 

With the shaking of his limbs settling, Hadrian became aware of just how much his body ached, moaning his complaint as his sore body made its grievances known. Someone shushed him, the combined feeling of well manicured nails on his scalp and the gentle stroke of a thumb pad on his cheek sending his sore body into an almost boneless state as he slowly came back to himself, eyes flickering as he fought off the sleep that clung to him, unwilling to let him go.

“Hadrian?” The voice called, melodic and comforting.

Hadrian fought with his sleep addled eyes, squinting as a figure hovering above him began to take shape into a feminine form. “Mum?”

“I’m afraid not, darling,” the figure murmured, her voice tinged with sympathy. 

Hadrian, through his slowly clearing vision and swimming head, made out lovely blonde hair and painted lips curled in a soft smile. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Hello, dear,” she greeted, hands never faltering through his thick locks. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, closing his eyes again. “Everything is kind of fuzzy and my head feels really light and everything kind of aches.”

“Severus just left to grab some potions, I’m sure he’ll have something for you. Do you remember what happened?”

“I… I got mad. Draco said something I didn’t understand but I knew it was mean.” Hadrian admitted, keeping his eyes closed so he didn’t have to see Narcissa’s face. “He said my mum was a mudblood and that I was dirty. He just kept screaming it without answering my questions and then I remembered my uncle-” Hadrian choked on a sob, biting his lip to stop his crying. When he was calmer, he took a deep breath and continued. “I got really mad and something told me it would make it all go away and… I think I tried to hurt him.” He whispered the last part, too afraid to say it louder, as if it would make it true. “Did I? Did I hurt him, Mrs. Malfoy?”

“No, darling, no,” Narcissa assured, pulling his still quivering body into her lap. “Draco’s alright, if a little shaken.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, turning so that his face was tucked in against her body. “I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t mean to. I won’t do it again, I swear.”

“As much as I wish it were true, that will not be the case,” Severus interrupted, startling Hadrian away from the comfort of Narcissa’s hold. The potions master stood in front of them, looking down at Hadrian’s prone form impassively. He held a pouch in his hands, one Hadrian had seen Severus shove potions into multiple times at Spinner’s End. Severus followed his gazed and sighed, setting the pouch between them and opening it.

“I don’t understand,” Hadrian murmured, watching as Severus dug multiple potions out of the bag. “What do you mean? Am I going to attack more people?”

“Yes,” Severus said, staring unblinkingly into Hadrian’s eyes. “You will.”

“Severus!” Narcissa gasped.

“I’m not going to lie to him, Narcissa,” Severus bit out, rhythmically handing potions to Hadrian who downed them unquestioningly before handing the empty phials back, repeating the process. “He needs to know what he’s dealing with or accidents like this will keep happening.”

“Am I a freak?” Hadrian whispered, the brokenness of his voice interrupting what would have been a very loud conversation between the two adults. Narcissa gave the potions master a dirty look before she pulled Hadrian into her lap, smoothing his hair back.

“Of course not, darling. You’re a very special boy with very special talents, that’s all,” she assured him.  
Severus stood, shoving all of his empty vials back into his pouch with a huff. “Narcissa, don’t coddle him-”

Narcissa’s hand cut through the air, wand pointed threateningly at the potions master, effectively cutting him off. “Don’t you _dare_ say another word, Severus Snape,” she warned. “With everything he’s been through, he deserves some coddling in his life. He’s only a child, for Circe’s sake.”

“A child with a surplus of latent magical abilities that have now manifested as a parasitic entity!” Severus shouted, his voice cracking with emotion as he gestured wildly. “He’s a bomb that will go off without the slightest warning now!”

Hadrian whimpered as Narcissa clutched him to her chest, her expression livid and her voice cold. “You have no right to talk like that about him. Just because you are frightened with the outcome of the past few days does _not_ mean you can take it out on him! He’s only just woken up for Merlin’s sake and the first thing he hears is his guardian screaming like a banshee! He needs comfort Severus, not a tantrum.”

Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. If he were any less dignified, he’d be tapping his foot on the floor but he wasn’t, so with another sigh he glanced over to the boy who was peeking at him through Narcissa’s arms. “Come here, Hadrian.”

Hadrian hesitantly peeled himself away from Narcissa, who gave his cheek a comforting caress before he climbed down from the bed to stand in front of his guardian. He kept his eyes down, refusing to look up in case Severus lashed out like his uncle. He flinched when a hand touched the top of his head, expecting it to be pulled harshly, letting out a sound of surprised when it moved to the back of his head to tug him forward into a firm embrace. He sniffled, trying his best to not to cry and to stop his nose from running lest he dirty his guardian’s clothes, his hands clutching at the loose fabric of potions master’s robes.

“I apologize,” Severus murmured, tightening his hold on his charge. “I did not mean the things I said and I’m not upset with you. I am upset with myself for allowing you to be put in a dangerous situation. I did not think of the consequences of leaving you with Draco. It’s not your fault.”

“But I did something bad,” Hadrian whispered.

“Yes, but you were not in control of it,” Severus assured. “The fact that you know it was bad alone assures me that we can get it under control.” 

“I can control it?” Hadrian asked, looking up at his guardian with hope shining in his pale eyes.

“I believe so, yes.”

“Can I stop him from talking to me?”

Severus froze, glancing up at Narcissa who looked just as dumbstruck as himself, which was saying something since both had strict masks. “‘Him’?”

Hadrian was silent, practically hiding in Severus’s arms before he answered quietly, as if afraid he would be overheard. “He found me just before I - Harry - killed his relatives. He’s been visiting me in my dreams ever since, sometimes even when I’m awake, whispering things. I didn’t know why before, but now I do. He wants me to do bad things. He made me attack Draco.”

The two adults shared a look, a silent conversation shared with mere eye contact before Severus detached his ward from his robes to search his eyes. “Why have you not told me of this?”

“I thought if I ignored him, he would go away,” Hadrian admitted sheepishly. “I thought he did for a little bit, but I think I just made him angry instead.”

Severus sighed, his expression pinched. “I can help you block him out as well. It will be difficult and I cannot promise that he will go away completely, especially in your dreams, but while you are awake you may be able to block him from your mind.”

Hadrian examined the potions master’s expression for a few moments before giving a small nod and tentatively wrapping his arms as much as he could around the man’s larger frame. Severus stood stiffly for merely a moment before he returned the embrace, heart clenching at the thought of how difficult Lily’s son’s life was still to be even after being removed from his horrid relatives.

The soft clearing of a throat brought both male’s attention back to the bed where Narcissa was sitting, painted lips pulled up in a gentle smile. “You must be hungry, Hadrian. Breakfast is ready if you’d like to eat.”

In response, Hadrian’s stomach rumbled, drawing a soft laugh from the Malfoy matriarch and an embarrassed blush from Hadrian, who let go of Severus with a bashful expression . “Yes, please, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Come, darling, how many times must I say it?” Narcissa chided, standing up with as much grace as a queen before making her way to where Hadrian and Severus were both standing. She lifted the small child into her arms, ignoring a soft protest from Severus, and made her way towards the dining room. “Call me Aunt Narcissa.”

ϟ ϟ ϟ

Breakfast was an… awkward affair.

Draco had been in the dining room, sitting at the table with his plate full of breakfast, but as soon as he’d caught sight of Hadrian, he’d glared and then bolted. Narcissa had apologized about her son’s behaviour and had told Hadrian that she’d had a very long discussion with him on the way he’d acted. He also learned that he had been asleep for two days, much to Severus’s and his own distress. Narcissa assured him that there was nothing for him to be concerned about, but Hadrian still worried, he’d never slept that long. 

Had his unwanted companion done something to him while he slept? Was he going black out, lose control of himself, and start tearing down the Malfoy estate? Hadrian must have been making quite the expression because Severus had rested a hand on his head and told him that worrying would solve nothing and that both he and Narcissa would be keeping an eye on Hadrian’s health. 

So Hadrian tried his best to put it out of his mind and ate his breakfast, downing even more vile concoctions that the potions master shoved at him. When he was done, only half his plate had been finished and Narcissa had fretted over him ceaselessly. Severus had only escalated her fussing with an offhand comment about how it was more than he’d been eating when he’d first begun living with the dour man. Hadrian, awed and nonplused as Narcissa needled Severus, who did his best to ignore her, wondered if this was what it was like to have a real mother and father.

Hadrian had to step in though when it looked like Narcissa might hex his guardian. “When do I have to start learning how to control my… magic cloud thing?”

“Hadrian,” Severus admonished. “Do not use such a mediocre, catch-all word like ‘thing’ when trying to describe something.”

“Then what do I call it?”

“It is merely an extension of your magic. Call it just that.”

“So when do I learn how to control it?” Hadrian reiterated, slightly impatient.

Severus eyed his ward, Expression contemplative. “How are you feeling?”

Hadrian straightened up at the question, taking stock of his body and the aches peppering his limbs. They throbbed quite a bit. “I feel ok.” He lied, expression hopeful. Severus gave him a disapproving look that told the young Prince that his guardian didn’t believe him for a second. “Okay, I’m a little sore…” Severus narrowed his eyes. “And my head kind of hurts…” The potions master nodded his head like he’d expected as much and Hadrian leapt to his feet to defend himself. “But I want to start now! The sooner I get control of my magic the less people I’ll hurt!”

“Or the more potential you’ll have to lose control of your magic and cause even more harm to not only yourself but others as well,” Severus reasoned. “Then you’ll be forced to heal even longer on top of feeling guilty for hurting more people.”

Hadrian drew his eyebrows together in disappointment, sitting back down sulkily. “I didn’t hurt anyone before.”

“Hadrian!” The potions master hissed, drawing a flinch from the young Prince. “If Narcissa and I had not been present you could very well have killed Draco. We will begin your lessons when you have fully healed. Do. Not. Push this.” 

Hadrian scowled, settling back into his seat with a huff but didn't contest his guardian. It wasn’t the first time Severus had gotten short with him but it still stung. Severus, marking their conversation as over, stood and addressed Narcissa. “I have been called into Hogwarts. Would you allow Hadrian to stay here while I am away?”

“Of course,” Narcissa answered, smiling genially. “Will you be long?”

“I hope to return before evening, but Dumbledore will likely keep me for as long as he can,” the potions master sneered. “Hadrian, I expect you on your best behaviour.”

“Yes, sir,” Hadrian muttered, refusing to look at the older man.

Severus looked up as if asking a higher being for strength before he turned on his heel to exit the dining room. Hadrian watched him go from the corner of his eye, conflicted before he pushed up out of his chair, calling out. “Severus!”

The older man paused, barely turned around before his arms were catching the young boy. Hadrian let go just as fast as he’d launched himself into the potions master’s arms, still scowling slightly, a faint flush on his cheeks. “Be safe.”

Severus’s face was impassive as he took in his young ward, but then he gave a small smirk, setting a hand on top of the boy’s head. “I will strive to be nothing less. Behave yourself.”

And then he was gone, robes billowing out as he strode from the dining room. 

After Severus had departed, Narcisssa had led Hadrian back to the room he’d woken up in when she’d caught him stifling a yawn. He’d protested as much as he could, but the Malfoy matriarch was having none of it. “You expended quite a lot of magical energy for your age.” She said, tucking his covers around him. “You need your rest. When you wake, we can get started on some basic lessons if you’d like.”

“Promise?” Hadrian murmured, eyes already drooping closed.

“I promise, dear,” Narcissa agreed, a soft smile on her lips as she brushed his hair from his face. 

Her eyes caught on a faint outline on his forehead and she allowed her fingers to brush over the faded scar. The blood adoption had not gotten rid of it, much to her and Severus’s surprise, thought there was not much concern between them about it. It had been faded when the boy first found himself in Severus’s care and had only faded more after the adoption. If anyone else caught a glimpse of it, it would be too faint to clearly make it out, though it might raise suspicion in certain people. She brushed his bangs back over his forehead, patting them down gently. Best to keep it hidden. When she was done fussing over the boy, she stood, though not before placing a soft peck on his cheek. “Sleep well, Hadrian.”

“Thanks, Aunt Narcissa,” Hadrian whispered, drawing her attention back to him, smiling warmly before she shut the door and left him to recover.

ϟ ϟ ϟ

A few weeks passed after the “Draco Incident” as he liked to call it, and whenever Severus had to leave Spinner’s end for some reason or another and he couldn’t take Hadrian with him, he left him with Narcissa.

The Malfoy matriarch had found him a tutor quite a while ago but they weren’t available until the school year started, so in the meantime Narcissa taught him herself. She seemed surprised when he’d told her that he already knew how to read and write. The elegant witch had been trying to teach him the ABCs and he had sat there and explained to her, trying to be polite since Severus would have had his head if he was anything but, that he already knew quite a lot of what she’d planned to teach him: reading, writing, and basic maths.

Slightly put off, Narcissa had given him a feather - a quill she called it - like the one he’d seen the goblin in the bank use, and asked him to write a few sentences for her. That’s where he had failed. Hadrian learned very quickly that quills bloody sucked. He couldn’t dip it too far into the inkwell or he’d have a blotch where his first letter should have been and if he didn’t dip it far enough he’d run out of ink too fast.

Narcissa had seemed a little superior when she learned that he could write, just not with wizarding implements. Hadrian had scowled at the fancy, ink stained quill so he wouldn’t direct his ire at her instead. He could feel his annoyance at her coil in his belly and panicking, quickly squashed it. When no hissed whisper of malice made its way into his ears, he relaxed and let his anger go. There wasn’t any point to it anyways, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to being looked down upon. It was normal. He had just hoped his “aunt” would have been different.

Hadrian practiced with a quill whenever he had free time, which was often. Severus tried to find things for him to do, books he could read, potions he would be able to help the potions master make, but he was being called away more and more as the days passed so Hadrian found himself more often then not, practicing his penmanship over at the Malfoy estate. It was practically a second home to Hadrian by now, though not by choice. He’d much rather have stayed in Spinner’s End with no one but the shrill Pippy and Anumati to talk to because at least they would talk to him.

Draco had still yet to talk to him, let alone even look at him. Whenever the young Malfoy caught sight of him, he would dart away, expression both terrified and furious. It reminded Hadrian a bit of how Harry’s cousin would look at him whenever he’d done something with his magic. Hadrian had tried to be understanding about it whenever Narcissa apologized for her son. Here he was, Draco’s would-be murderer, spending countless days with Draco’s mother, with barely a slap on the wrist while Draco had been given a stern talking to about his behaviour towards a family member, even a distant one. But even his understanding begun to wane with each glare and quick retreat and eventually Hadrian just began to ignore the boy.

The Malfoy patriarch was just as icy, though less open about it than Draco was. Lucius had formally introduced himself the second day Hadrian had been left in Narcissa’s care, welcoming Hadrian to call him by his name or uncle since he was Narcissa’s cousin. Hadrian called him Mr. Malfoy. No matter how rude he knew it to be, calling the Lord Malfoy “Lucius” was like calling Harry’s abusive relatives family. That and Hadrian didn’t trust him. On the outside he was all smiles, sure, but Hadrian could see his disdain and overinflated ego whenever he met his quicksilver eyes, as well as fear. It wasn’t the same as Draco’s, it was less raw and more somber. Like he was afraid of what Hadrian would become instead of what he was.

Needless to say, he ignored both Lord Malfoy and Draco as politely as possible, though Draco made it rather easy, what with his aversion to Hadrian. He enjoyed Narcissa’s company but he never forgot no matter how much she pet his hair or praised him, she still had that brief moment where she’d thought he was inferior.

That was why when Narcissa had left him alone in the library with a brief promise to return, he sighed in relief. He never got a moment alone to himself anymore, not even with Severus. Though he knew the reason: his uninvited guest had resurfaced. Hadrian had felt it when his magic had snapped back into place. It had felt like he’d finally taken a wrapped up rubber band off his finger and all the blood had flooded back into it, except the feeling was _all over his body_ , and with it came a purring voice that sent him sprinting down into Severus’s potions lab without even a knock.

It filled him with relief when his chaperon left to take care of whatever it was she had rushed off to, after giving him instruction to keep practicing while she was gone of course. But it filled him with anxiety too. What if the voice decided to take over? What if he ended up destroying the manor or killing its occupants. So there he was, sitting by himself in the library, practically jumping at every sound as he tried and failed to figure out how to work his bloody quill when the last voice he’d ever expect to address him called out from behind him.

“So, you’re Harry Potter,” Draco said, startling Hadrian so much his knees hit the bottom of the table. He turned, taking in the tense figure of the youngest Malfoy, his expression guarded but not so much that Hadrian couldn’t detect the anxiety being in a room alone with him was causing the blonde. Hadrian merely gave him a bland look, returning to his practice.

Draco pursed his lips, clearly annoyed with being ignored but had the decency to sit instead of shout, crossing his arms as he slouched back in the chair Narcissa had been occupying across from Hadrian. The silence stretched on as Hadrian continued to ignore the blonde and Draco refused to be the first one to break the silence, the only sound being the _scritch scritch_ of the quill nib on the parchment as Hadrian continued to write. 

Just as the blonde was beginning to relax, a sharp _crack_ resounded through the library, startling him out of his slumped position, his head snapping up from where it had been resting on his chest. Hadrian was staring down in shock where his broken quill nib was laying in a puddle of ink. Ink had stained his fingers, spilling from the cracked flute of the quill to bleed over his messy handwriting. His shock morphed into ire when Draco snorted, redirecting his pale and poisonous eyes at the blonde who swallowed nervously. 

Letting out a deep breath, Hadrian cleaned his fingers and parchment with a handkerchief and then set the broken quill off to the side. It wasn’t his first broken quill but it was his first broken quill in a few days and he’d thought he’d improved enough that they had were no long in danger or snapping and ruining his parchment. With as much dignity as he could muster, he pulled another quill from his robes, fighting a blush that was steadily creeping over his cheeks as Draco continued to stare. He made it through two more paragraphs before another _crack_ echoed through the cavernous room.

Hadrian stared at his quill, betrayed.

“You’re holding it wrong.”

Hadrian’s eyes flicked up, meeting the storm silver grey of his cousin’s who flinched back at the fury directed at him. Frustrated and not a little scared he’d attack Draco yet again, much like the blonde probably feared, Hadrian took a calming breath and set the second broken quill down, leaning back so he could look at Draco properly. “What do you mean?”

“T-the quill,” Draco cleared his throat, looking like a snake cornered by a much larger, much more cannibalistic, snake. “You’re holding it wrong. The feather should be tilted out and away from you, not straight up and down.”

Hadrian wanted to argue with the blonde, he’d been writing that way for the past week and Narcissa had said nothing about it, but instead reached into his robes and pulled another quill out, not bothering to clean up again, and dipped it into his ink pot. Following Draco’s instructions, he maneuvered the quill into a more angled position. Pressing it down into the parchment, he found that the ink left the nib more smoothly. Slightly miffed, the young Prince continued on with his writing, only stopping when Draco cleared his throat to glare at his cousin. 

“What?” He snapped. Draco was making his anxiety grow being so near him and speaking to him after almost a whole month of avoiding him and it was manifesting as irritation because Hadrian had still yet to hear the seductive whisper of violence in his ears.

“If you press any harder, you're going to snap it again,” the Malfoy heir whispered, his eye averted like he was afraid Hadrian was going to strike out.

Hadrian glanced down, noticing the way the quill’s flute was bending and quickly relaxed his hand. His eyes slowly trailed back up to the blonde sitting in front of him, the pale green orbs contemplating him before refocusing on his parchment, keeping note of how hard he pressed and how he angled his wrist. 

By the time Hadrian had reached the end of the parchment and set his quill down, the silence had become less strained. Draco still all but refused to make eye contact with the other boy, eliciting a wave of guilt in the young Prince. Pursing his lips, Hadrian resolved to give the other boy a chance. Draco had obviously needed to take his time in considering the idea of accepting Hadrian as family. He had, after all, only insulted Hadrian’s mother where as Hadrian had tried to kill him.

“I’m not,” he stated, drawing the blonde away from wherever his mind had wandered while Hadrian had been writing.

“Not what?” Draco asked, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“I’m not Harry Potter. He’s dead,” Hadrian explained, beginning to pack up his parchment and quill, handing the broken ones off to a house elf to be vanished or thrown away.

“That’s not what Father and Mother said,” Draco argued.

“Well, then your father and Aunt Narcissa are wrong. He’s dead.”

Draco looked affronted at the mere suggestion that his parents could be wrong about anything but remembering how Hadrian had become the first time he angered him, he decided to let it go. 

“How do you know?” He asked, standing up when Hadrian did and patting off his trousers as though sitting in the library for merely a few minutes had coated him in dust.

Hadrian paused in rolling up his ink stained parchment, his eyes going vacant for a moment before he shook his head and finished packing up. When he met Draco’s eyes the blonde flinched back, mouth agape as he took in the boy before him. Hadrian’s eyes had, for just a brief moment, flashed an unsettling blood red. But then he blinked and they were back to the guarded raw prehnite Draco had last seen. He was shocked out of his moment of surprise as Hadrian swept from the room, only to pause at the door and turn his head just enough to throw his reply over his shoulder.

“Because I killed him.” 

With that Hadrian left, the library doors closing with a gentle _click_ , leaving Draco alone in the library with his mouth hanging open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah hahahahahahahaha! I love hurting my baby too much, I'm so sorry. Way to go Narcissa. At least he still has Sev an also possibly Draco.
> 
> Also, guys. What. The. Heck. I have 6 chapters of an undisclosed nor determined amount of chapters and y'all have given me 700 kudos. I'm literally going to explode if I reach 1000 before I even get to chapter 10. But I love hearing you guys' thoughts too. Please shoot me a comment! :)
> 
> Anyway, see you in the next update my hypnotic little wampus cats ;) ~ 💙


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